


Fallen Commander / Shameless Soldier

by starpants



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasizing, Finally Talking Things Out, Finding each other again, Flashbacks, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Masturbation, Mild S&M, POV Female Character, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Tending Wounds, Vaginal Sex, physical affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-07-28 15:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7647046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starpants/pseuds/starpants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s discovered that her vigilante partner is none other than the handsome commander she thought to be dead – the same one she’d pined for since day one. Is it considered disloyal if she imagines that she is sleeping with Strike Commander Morrison instead?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pining

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there reader! This is my first publication on AO3, and I'm extremely excited to share my work with you!
> 
> This work is a 3rd person, female reader-insert fiction from Reader's point of view. The age of Reader is intended to be within 3-8 years of Soldier: 76, although there is no specific mention of age.
> 
> The story takes place before the lore's Official Recall, beginning about four years after the fall of Overwatch's Swiss Headquarters.
> 
> For maximum enjoyment of this writing, I recommend downloading an extension for your browser that allows word replacement and replacing the reoccurring phrase, "(Y/N)" with your name.
> 
> The first chapter will not include any explicit sexual content, as I'd like to take the time to introduce the relationship between Reader and Soldier: 76. Please forgive me, though there is plenty of content to come!
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read my introduction! I hope you enjoy this fanfiction!

They were known as an intimidating duo across the country and abroad. Criminals of every caliber in cities around the world always tread with care, ever in fear of falling into the eyes of two specific mercenaries who were particularly good at doing their job. One, (Y/N), was a fallen agent of Overwatch; the other a stalwart man with no name or face – only the code-name Soldier: 76. Together, they worked to defend others and bring perpetrators to justice. They were, by all accounts, an extremely effective team.

To think, they had actually started working together by chance. At one point, two complete strangers accepted the same job and were too stubborn to back down. It wasn’t until the heat of battle that they each realized that they effectively played off of each other’s strengths and weaknesses, resulting in completing in a timely manner. When that mission was over, they unanimously decided to continue working together. From that point on, they became a great team and fast friends.

Years passed and since their initial encounter, they've become close friends. It grew to the point where even the man, who always carried a gruff and grumpy air about him, was comfortable enough to loosen up around the female. The mercenary noticed this, and she was happy that she could break the brusque man’s shell, even if she took every opportunity to call him out for, “going soft.”

After being acquainted for a long time, it was unexpected that their relationship would change entirely over the course of one night. Soldier: 76 and (Y/N) had taken on a mid-summer mission in Dorado. It was a simple task – find and contain – that they accomplished without any issues. Upon completion, they paid for a couple of inexpensive motel rooms to spend the night. The plan was to rest up to be ready for travel the next day – or so Soldier: 76 would imply. In the summer, the dry heat of Dorado is unbearable, even in the dead of night. It only seems to forewarn the upcoming changes in the air.

She lay alone in the motel room late at night. She stares at the ceiling, finding that sleep cannot take her immediately. She knows that the climate is to blame; she can’t even rest comfortably in bed with the sticky heat affecting every inch of her skin. She entertains the thought of going to the kitchen and drinking water to cool off… ‘ _No_ ,’ she thinks to herself, ‘ _I don’t want to get out of bed._ ’ She groans at the position she is in and scorns herself for being so lazy.

She is immediately alerted by the creaking sound of her door being opened and closed without haste or hesitation. She snaps her head and takes notice of the figure in the doorway. It has a masculine build – tall with broad shoulders – but otherwise she cannot distinguish any features. Sitting up promptly, she speaks in a firm voice that does not betray her anxiety. “Who are you?” she asks assuredly as she slowly reaches toward her nightstand to retrieve her gun. “What do you want?”

“Relax, it’s just me,” the figure responds with a husky voice. “Don’t even think about firing that thing.”

The female immediately recognizes the voice and feels a wave of relief. She makes the connection and realizes that the man before her is Soldier: 76, who had retired to his motel room a couple of hours ago. She looks at his face and realizes that he isn’t bearing his signature visor, although it’s too dark to make out any of his features. She lets out a deep sigh; she’s extremely thankful that she hadn’t fired upon her own partner by mistake. After briefly calming herself, she takes her pillow and flings it at the man with all her strength. She feels a sense of pride when the pillow smacks him square in the face, even if he doesn’t flinch upon contact. “You know you almost gave me a heart attack, Soldier,” she accuses. “Maybe next time you should consider knocking, unless you’d prefer being filled with lead.”

It’s too dark to see, but Soldier: 76 may as well be scowling in response to her sudden change of attitude. “I’d ask forgiveness, but I think I’m the one who deserves an apology. I was almost shot, after all.”

She grimaces – even though she knows he can see her just as well as she sees him. He is only half-serious with his attitude, so she can’t help but find the entire situation unintentionally humorous. What kind of person enters into a room unannounced and expects an apology? Soldier: 76 is absolutely a piece of work. “Well, what are you doing here in the middle of the night for?” she asks as she relaxes her posture again, opting to draw attention away from the fact that she had very nearly attacked her partner. “Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answers simply. “It’s too damn hot.” He moves to the edge of her bed and sits down diagonally to where she is propped up. From this angle, she can barely make out his facial profile; his furrowed brow, his elegant nose, his narrow lips, his strong chin… This is a rare sight for her.

“It really is, I can’t stand this heat either.” She reaches up to stretch her arms, officially resolving to do something to solve both her and her partner’s sleeping problem. “If you can’t sleep, I have some tea that might help.” She silently curses herself for being too lazy to make herbal tea when she was feeling restless half an hour ago. “I’ll brew a few cups; it’ll be ready in about ten minu-”

Soldier: 76 whips around swiftly. Without warning, both of his hands are clasping her wrists above her head, resulting in her being pinned to her bed. She takes a second to register the sudden action, but she’s too well trained to allow it to faze her. “So… No to tea then?” she asks simply.

Soldier: 76 growls softly, his face at least half a meter from hers. “I imagine,” he states calmly, “that you would need to turn on the lights to prepare tea.”

She sighs knowingly. She had accepted that the mercenary’s secret identity is a sore topic for him, so much so that (Y/N) – a self-proclaimed best friend to the coot – still to this day doesn’t even know his true alias. She nods, just subtly enough that it may not have been seen in the darkness. “If you want,” she offers, “you can go back to your room and grab your mask? By the time you come back, tea should be ready… Though I have no idea how you’ll be able to drink it with that thing on.”

He holds his posture, unsure of how to proceed. The female isn’t issuing a challenge to him; she’s just trying her best to make him feel comfortable in her presence. More than anything, she wants to be able to spend down-time with her teammate so that they can enjoy each other’s company outside of the battle. For that, she’s willing to cast aside her burning curiosity to know who man behind the mask is.

“Sure,” he finally decides. His hands release her wrists and he stands from the bed, walking over to the door. He exits the room as quickly as he had entered, at which time the mercenary stands and walks to the coffee maker sitting in that sad excuse of a kitchenette. After switching the damned lights, she fills the pot with water and allows it to boil, making sure that the pot was clear of any coffee grounds before turning it on. Following that, she walks to her suitcase to search for the tea bags she had purchased in town.

She chooses to focus on the ingredients of the tea rather than think about the situation which had just unfolded in her room. She doesn’t dwell on his sudden actions, waiving it off as a man desperate to keep his identity a secret; however, she can’t help but think about the way she had been restrained… She can’t stop herself from imagining how it must have felt to be held down by him…

Ever since her first day as an Overwatch agent, (Y/N) was infatuated with her superior, Commander Morrison. He was the image of perfection – kind, strong, determined, and exceptionally handsome. She had strived to prove her worth so that she could one day receive his praise, but even with all of her effort, she never had the opportunity to speak with him face-to-face. The day that the Swiss Headquarters fell was the worst day of her life; it marked the fall of a great organization, but it was also the day that she lost the one she’d fallen in love with.

To this day she regrets not being able to confess her feelings to him, and even after his death she continues to pine for him so much so that it had overruled any opportunity she had in finding companionship elsewhere. In her own opinion, it is beneficial; it allows her to focus on her missions as they come without being distracted by emotional constraints. It’s also what allows her to work alongside Soldier: 76 without feeling attraction towards him, thus eliminating the chance of compromising their professional relationship.

Even though Morrison is dead, it doesn’t stop her from craving his touch or imagining how it would feel if he had been the one in her room moments before, pinning her against the bed. She pictures his light locks gently shining in the moonlight and a voice, calm and deep, calling her name and whispering how badly he wants to take her, to make her _his woman_ …

(Y/N) groans; she’s frustrated that she's fantasizing being seduced by a man who’s passed on. She needs to relax and remind herself that Morrison should be far out of her desires, if for no other reason than out of respect. She hates herself for brushing it off as silly sexual longing and resolving to relieve herself later… She knows that after being bothered so, she will end up touch herself and imagining that it is his touch instead. If nothing else, she’s a greedy, heartless creature who places her own indulgence over basic decency.

The door opens and closes again as Soldier: 76, sporting his signature mask, strides into the motel room. She finishes brewing the tea as he walks in her direction – though she had been distracted, she was able to efficiently prepare two cups. A smile grows as she hands her partner one of the warm mugs. “Careful,” she warns, “It’s hot.”

He grunts to show his gratitude and takes hold, waiting for the liquid to cool. “If you want,” she offers smoothly, “you can take it back to your room and enjoy it there." Moments ago, she wanted to spend time with him, but now she’d much rather allow him to drink his brew in comfort, and she knows he doesn't want to remove his mask in front of her. Moreover, she'd also prefer having the room to herself… for distasteful reasons.

“I can drink it here,” Soldier: 76 responds simply, “just turn off the lights again.”

He gives the direction as if it’s something that actually makes sense. She's gawking back at the man. “Are you serious?” she states, clearly annoyed by the suggestion. “There’s no way I’m drinking tea in the dark, Soldier. I may as well burn my face.”

He grumbles in response. “Fine,” he concludes as he reaches for the chairs on either side of the small dining table. He pushes each seat so that the backs rest against one another. “Sit back-to-back with me then.”

She can’t believe he’s being so ridiculous, but she humors him anyway. She takes her seat, grumbling under her breath, “You come into my room, drink my tea, and tell me how to sit? Unbelievable.” Never-the-less, she is reclined in her chair when Soldier: 76 takes his seat behind her, facing in the opposite direction. She hears him take off his mask and set it on the table when she brings the cup to her lips to taste the brew.

Upon her first sip of tea, she already feels much calmer. The herbs instantly work their charm and she feels tranquil; for some reason, she has a feeling that the grumpy man behind her feels the same. They sit silently for a while, slowly sipping from warm cups. The back of her head gently leans into the back of his neck, a gentle form of physical contact she's too tired to pull away from. She relaxes in the position without receiving any disapproval from Soldier-

With a sudden realization, she breaks the silence. Without moving her body, she asks him, "Soldier, is there another name you go by?" He doesn't respond, so she raises her head from his contact and continues. "It's funny, we've known each other so long, and I still only know you by that name... it just doesn't feel very personal."

He doesn’t speak up, so she lets the question slide. She mumbles a soft apology for prying, and he grunts in reply to let her know he isn’t offended. They resume sitting together as a heavy silence fills the room.

On the one hand, (Y/N) enjoys being in the presence of Soldier: 76, even when they are not in deep conversation. On the other, there's an itch between her legs, a result of fantasizing too furiously her desire to be taken by Commander Morrison. She’s disgusted with herself for being so relentless – she is never going to be able to fulfill those desires – but nothing she can say can make a change at this point. She's been craving the Commander's affection for so long and it's not a feeling that can be discarded in a single night. Rather, it's one that requires constant attention and effort, something that she cannot seem to provide consistently towards the situation. Her reasoning is that heart wants what the heart wants; there's no point in striking the fact that the person she desires is-

"Jack"

Her thoughts come to a sudden halt. Soldier: 76 had just spoken out of nowhere, and of all the things that he could have possibly said, it was something extremely relevant to what she was mulling over. “What?” she inquires. She isn’t able to hide the confusion that guides her voice.

"Long ago," he replies evenly, "I used to go by the name Jack. I haven't answered to it in a long time, but if you want to call me that... As long as we're alone like this, that's fine by me."

She smiles, even though he can't see her. Her thoughts have effectively been sidetracked from feverish desires, thank goodness, and she's touched that her partner trusts her with his actual name. It's a small step forward, but a step none the less.

Her heart had begun pounding upon hearing the familiar name; she responds to him without thinking, "It's funny. I actually used to know someone named Jack."

“Well,” he replies, his voice completely deadpan, “it’s not an uncommon name."

“Shut up,” is the first response that comes to mind. She laughs, and she can hear his faint chuckle from behind her as well. “More specifically,” she continues, staring down at her beverage, “I knew of him. He was someone that I admired; a great leader and a good man.”

The female can feel the soldier shift in his chair behind her. He knows that she was once an agent of Overwatch, so she’s almost positive that he figured out that she is referring to her ex-commander, Jack Morrison. She had very rarely opened up about her previous work experience, so she is thankful that he hesitates before continuing. She’s sure he recognizes that by asking about her previous life, he would be opening a conversation that she doesn't want to have. For his own, privy reasons, he finally chooses to continue and asks in a gruff voice, “Do you know what happened to him?”

She shakes her head slowly and her eyes stare into the cup she is firmly gripping onto. She feels her voice catching in her throat. “He’s gone,” the mercenary says simply. Before she can allow her friend to speak, she chooses to clarify. “He died, and with him so did my family and a great organization.”

She doesn’t realize that she has started crying. It isn’t until the hot air makes it hard to breathe that it becomes clear just how upset she is, noticing the tears that stream down her face with no sign of ceasing. She isn’t thinking about her friend in the room, or the tea in her hand, or the burning that was once between her legs. All that she feels is anguish. She’s distraught over the fact that Jack Morrison is gone, but she’s even more upset that she just can’t let him go, move on, and keep from thinking about him, within her fantasies or otherwise. She is tired of pretending what she is feeling is normal, and she’s frustrated that despite the passage of time, the feelings she has will not go away.

Soldier: 76 recognizes what’s happening behind him. He sets his cup down on the table beside his mask and walks to her side. Her eyesight is blurred through the tears, but she can make out his figure approaching her. He gently removes the cup from her hands and sets it on the ground. His hands take her upper arms and gently pulls her forward to guide her head to his broad shoulder. He wraps his arms around her back in a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry," He says in a gruff voice with a surprisingly soft edge.

She wants to shake her head, verify that it isn't something he could control, show appreciation for his concern, or even admit that she isn’t deserving of his responsiveness. All she can do, for the time being, is wrap her arms around him and weep softly into the accepting shoulder. And she does just that. She lets herself cry as he gently hushes her and rubs small circles into her back. She knows that she's being treated like a kid, but it’s exactly what she needs. Having her friend there and able to provide this comfort is what eventually allows her to calm down again.

She breathes easily again after her outbreak. The tears have ceased, so she unapologetically rubs against his shirt to dry her face. Sensing that she’s finished, he turns his head slowly and whispers into her ear, “(Y/N) … Close your eyes. Please.”

The bereft mercenary respects that Soldier: 76 still wants his privacy, and honestly it’s the very least she can offer after providing her with unyielding support. She nods to show agreement and shuts her eyes. She feels him push her torso forward to pull her head off of his shoulder. She waits for him to move back to his seat directly behind her so that they can continue to drink tea and sit quietly, all-the-while pretending that the entire exchange had never happened.

She’s caught off guard when she feels one hand reach to gently cover her eyes and the other wrap around the back of her neck. He pulls her forward and-

She sees why Soldier: 76 had placed a hand over her face; her eyes almost shot open out of absolute shock. Pressed against her lips is a pair she had never felt before. They’re soft and warm, moving deliberately. She can’t believe that such smooth lips belong to none other than her partner, but more importantly she’s stunned that he's actually _kissing_ her.

The hold on the back of her neck is firm but not forceful; she knows based on his pressure that she could pull away if she wanted to, but for some reason she simply doesn't. The pounding she feels in her chest is fast, though, and it acts as a confirmation that she’s enjoying the feeling. The skin that his hands grace feels heated, perhaps to serve as a dull reminder that Dorado is hot as hell in the summer. Her lips tingle as she slowly matches his movements. Her arms wrap behind his neck to hold him closer to her, in hopes of keeping the contact from ever ending. The pleasure she’s feeling is inexplicable, though she finds herself enjoying every second.

He pulls away too soon, and she takes it as her opportunity to catch her breath. His hands move away from her neck and face and she retracts her own hands from around his neck to her lap. Other than that, she doesn’t move. She waits eagerly for him to speak up before doing anything at all. She can feel the reluctance in the soldier’s voice. “Open your eyes,” he directs in as neutral a tone as ever.

She isn’t sure how to proceed. All she can assume is that her friend trusts her with his well-kept secret, his identity, after providing her with emotional support. Less than an hour ago, this same man had pinned her to her bed as a bold attempt to keep from revealing his face to her; she has no clue what had caused him to change his stance between then and now. Perhaps this was part of some elaborate confession– ‘ _Confession?_ ’ she catches herself immediately, ‘ _It was just a kiss. Your friend was trying to help you feel better; don’t get ahead of yourself._ ’

Finally deciding to proceed, she nods her head slowly and opens her eyes.

She sees that he is kneeling on the ground before her still, his hands resting upon his knees. For the first time she’s able to take in all of his features. He’s looking directly at her with piercing blue eyes – simply the most beautiful eyes she’s ever seen in her entire life. His face is covered with fine lines and long scars, really making for a strong, rugged look she honestly half expected. She doesn’t realize it, but she’s holding her breath. Even with the passage of time, there’s no way she’d be able to forget that face. (Y/N) knows immediately that the man that’s kneeling before her is Jack Morrison.

Her head is spinning from the realization: Jack Morrison is Soldier: 76, her partner this entire time. He'd been the one who watched her back all these years. It was his arms that held her gently earlier this evening, providing her with much-needed comfort. It was his lips that she had just-

She simply cannot cry any more this evening, but that doesn’t stop her sight from becoming blurry again. She wishes it wouldn’t; she wants to see him clearly for as long as she can. She’s afraid that if she doesn’t, he would disappear again.

“But you died,” is all that she can manage. Her raw emotions not allowing her to say something – anything – more personal or intelligent.

He offers a small, almost cocky smile. “Thing is, old soldier never die,” he responds simply. He reaches with open palms for the hands resting on her lap. He takes them in his own and raises them to his lips, kissing her knuckles lightly. “I’m glad I didn’t,” his voice is low and soft, “Otherwise, I would have never been able to work alongside you.”

She smiles genuinely and leans down to kiss him again. The touch sends a shock through her entire body. It feels more passionate than the kiss she received earlier, mostly due to her being the one to initiate and not being surprised by the sudden action. The fact that she knew she was kissing the man she’d fallen for so long ago certainly helped to make it a pure bliss.

She breaks away with a small smile. She looks into his eyes – which seem to be glimmering, strangely enough. She leans into his shoulder again and inhales his aroma. She feels the tickle of his breath against her neck and the light pressure of his hand rubbing small circles into her back. Without much warning and in a very short amount of time, she falls asleep in his arms.

Jack doesn’t blame her for drifting off so easily – it’s certainly been an exhausting evening. He groans as he realizes that it’s his responsibility to move her to bed, though. He lifts the woman with little effort and carries her from the chair to the bed. Once she’s gently placed atop the covers, he lowers himself in bed next to her and takes the time to stare at her face and really admire it. As he watches her soft breathing, he reaches out and pulls her into his arms. He quickly discovers that it’s extremely easy to fall asleep with her sleeping soundly next to him.

The city of Dorado is hot as hell in the middle of summer, but by this point in time neither mercenary would be conscious enough to even care.


	2. Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the pair of mercenaries believe their relationship is stronger than ever, there's still the elephant in the room; they've all but confessed their feelings towards one another. It only takes one night of intimacy along King's Row for Jack Morrison to figure out exactly why that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They gonna bang o:

Months after the fateful evening in Dorado, Jack and (Y/N) have continued to work as a pair of unstoppable mercenaries. Their bond is stronger than ever, thanks to an evening of raw emotions, and as a result they are able to fight together to finish any job, all while ensuring the safety of one another. That isn’t to say, however, that the air is clear between the two.

There is still the awkward topic of conversation that remains. They’ve all but confessed their feelings towards one another, and even at this point in time they’re unsure of where they stand. It begs the question: What relationship exists between the mercenaries?

The fact that both are focused on work certainly plays a part in halting the development of any relationship. A second, major contributing factor to the halt in development is that (Y/N) is in a position of reluctance. The man she fell in love with but thought to be dead is actually alive and well, and now she isn’t sure what to think of it. She absolutely finds the man before her attractive – all thanks to his broad shoulders, long torso, clear eyes – but she has an issue of disassociation. She fell in love with Commander Morrison, the courageous, chivalrous leader of Overwatch. Soldier: 76 is, by any and all accounts, a different man living a different life.

Sadly so, she still pines for Jack Morrison – the man before her partner – and she isn’t able to link her friend and her ex-commander to be the same person. As it turns out, she's more of a self-centered monster than she initially thought. She’s still obsessed with being adored by a younger version of her friend, who technically speaking didn’t exist anymore. Even if she were able make the connection, she doesn’t think herself worthy of a relationship when she carries such a selfish desire.

It's late September, and they've completed a mission in London, England. It's a big task - capturing and turning in gang members to local authorities – within which they are successful. They end the day by visiting a resort for the night so that they may rest and be ready to go in the morning. It's more of a high-end establishment than they're used to, but the job they’ve just completed paid extremely well. Plus, after working so hard and receiving so little luxuries for months on end, the pair had decided that they deserve to splurge a little. At the reception, Soldier: 76 pays in full; neither own a credit card, as they can't risk being tracked. It's usually a move that they can pull at motels (most of which are used to strange people coming and going), but in a high end hotel it's not the norm. The receptionist is hesitant and almost turns them away, but finally accepts with a very generous bribe courtesy of the gentleman.

One step forward in their relationship is that they've started staying in the same room rather than paying extra money for two. (Y/N) is welcoming of this; the man from three months ago, who went to such lengths to keep his identity a secret, now spends every evening with her. It’s a development that shows the amount of trust he places in her. More than anything, she appreciates that her friend is making an effort to spend more of his personal time in her presence.

They carry their luggage up to their hotel room and settle down. They stand for a moment in the living area of the the accommodation, which contains a leather couch, a dining table, and a television; the unit also boasts a well-stocked kitchenette, a bedroom with a king-sized bed, and a bathroom with a glorious, large shower.

To start, they decide to take turns washing off. "You go first," he insists. "I have to take off and clean all my equipment anyway."

The mercenary nods and accepts graciously. She knows there's no point in arguing with his demand. Besides, she _really_ wants to use that shower.

After stripping, she steps under the heated water and releases a loud sigh. She stands in the steam for what seems like ages, letting herself loosen up under the shower-head. She loves how the hot air fills her lungs and relaxes her muscles after a long day of chasing criminals. Once she’s had her fill, she dries herself, dresses herself in pajamas, tidies the area, and exits the bathroom.

She walks into the living area and finds that Soldier: 76 has already made himself quite comfortable. The couch has been pulled out to reveal a bed, and all his luggage rests on top of it. The man is currently working on polishing his rifle at the dining room table. His mask is off and sitting to the side; he's presumably already finished cleaning it.

She looks over the room again and shoots him an accusatory glance. "What do you think you're doing?"

He looks up from his work, his clear blue eyes meeting hers. "I'm cleaning my equipment," he responds simply.

She huffs in response. "Why is all of your stuff set out in here?"

"Ah," he says, understanding the nature of her question. "I'm sleeping in the living room tonight. I didn't think you'd mind."

"How do _you_ not mind?! Look at that bed!" she yells dramatically as she extends her arm toward the pull-out. "You probably can't even fit on that tiny thing, it looks like you could crush it with your ridiculous weight." She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "Look, you insisted on paying for the room tonight, so you should take the bed. I'll sleep on the couch.

"Not happening." He replies brusquely. He's turns his attention back to cleaning his gun, showing no interest in providing further rebuttal.

She groans. They have this argument _every time_ , ever since they first started sharing a room. He always insists that she gets the bed, even in instances where he would end up sleeping on the floor. She always fights him tooth and nail over the same issue, and it always leaves her exasperated as a result. What's the point of sharing a hotel room if he's not going to be comfortable?

"We could share the bed you know?" She offers. "It's not like we haven't done it before." Aside from the night in Dorado, there were a few rare instances when he would give in to her request and the two would share the bed for the evening. Even on those occasions, they kept to their own sides, never once touching in the night.

"It’ll be cold tonight,” he answers simply. “As much as I'd love to have a cover hog steal the sheets, I'll cut my losses and sleep on a couch, where at least I know I'll be warm."

"So you admit that sleeping on the couch is a loss?!"

"I'm used to sleeping in uncomfortable situations. It's nothing I can't handle."

She points a single finger at him. "Hey, mister wise guy,” she threatens. “If you don't take the bed, I'll sleep on the floor."

He gives a dismissive scoff. "Do you really think that empty threat'll work on me, princess? You wouldn't last an hour asleep on any surface without padding, and you know it."

She scoffs. He's not wrong with his statement, but more importantly she knows a lost argument when she sees it. There's no point in trying to convince him, either; once his mind is set, 76 is unmovable. She gives a sigh of resignation and stares with a scowl. "Go take a shower,” she says through clenched teeth. “You reek."

He smirks, knowing he’s won this argument, and teases her, "Probably not as badly as you did. Why do you think I had you showering first?"

She's mumbling under her breath, “ _Gee, I dunno. Probably to slip under my radar AGAIN and try to force me into sleeping on the damn bed by myself when it's obviously YOUR TURN? Unbelievable._ ”

Soldier: 76 walks out of the room to take his shower; there’s a slight spring in his step that she _knows_ is out of pride from his small victory. Deciding not to stand idly, the mercenary begrudgingly takes her bags into the bedroom and unpacks. From her suitcase she procures a pair of socks that she immediately puts on – because it’s a lot damn colder than she thought – and some tea bags. She walks back to the kitchen to boil some water for two cups of tea. By the time it's finished, the male exits the restroom in his sleepwear shirt-and-sweatpants combination.

(Y/N) hands him a cup and smile as he walks towards her. "Careful. It's hot."

He grunts in reply and takes the cup from her. Immediately following, they sit and sip from the warm cups. This has become a tradition for the two of them every night. Through their ritual, she’s learned that Soldier: 76 likes his tea with a little honey, and he knows that she likes to steep hers for a shorter time and with a splash of crème. One or the other makes tea without really asking and without taking turns. On one occasion, they both mistakenly made tea the same evening; it’s a story that still makes them both chuckle.

Their conversation, as always, is organic. They talk about the day’s mission, their plan for the next morning, a bit of joking around (she tries to slip back to talking about the sleeping situation but is shut down immediately), then comfortable silence. The woman cherishes these moments with her partner because this is the only time he lets his guard down to relax and have fun. These are the moments he listens to everything she says and genuinely enjoys hearing what she has to say. These conversations serve as proof of their closeness; she only regrets that she continues to consider the man a good friend, and that she is not able to see their attachment in a romantic light.

After they’ve finished their tea, she decides to turn in. She bids the gentleman a good night and retires to the bedroom. As predicted, the room is frigid thanks to the bitter temperature outside. She falls right into the bed and is instantly grateful for 76's insistence on making her sleep in the bedroom; the mattress is extremely comfortable, and once she finds herself under the covers she’s pleased to discover they are warm and cozy. Her last thoughts before falling asleep in that big bed involve her vowing to thank the man first thing in the morning.

* * *

She's snaps awake when she hears the door to the bedroom open and close. She jolts up in the bed to look toward the door. It's dark, but with the dim moonlight she recognizes the figure.

She tilts her head. "Couldn't sleep, Jack?" she asks is an inquisitive, almost teasing tone.

"Shut up," he grumbles in reply. She can tell he’s exhausted, no doubt because of that ridiculous excuse for a bed. She gives a small smirk, knowing that he can't see her face in the dark.

"This bed is too big for just one person,” she offers, patting the wide space with her right hand. “My offer still stands, you know.”

He groans, but immediately accepts her invitation. With little grace, he crashes onto the bed to her right. His eyes close and his mouth opens wide to let out a deep exhale. She stifles her laughter and throws the covers onto him. She listens as his breathing deepens and leans down to gently kiss his forehead. With a small smile she reclines again.

At first, she can't sleep. She's thinking anxiously about the man lying next to her. She's reflecting on the strange situation she's in; she’s in love with a man from her past, the same man resting next to her now, and she's having a difficult time trying to see him as the same person. She knows that’s his intention is to be someone different from his past self, but she wishes there was something – anything – that she could use to associate the two personas to the same person. She cannot, for the life of her, see Soldier: 76 as Jack Morrison – as a romantic partner. There’s nothing she can readily do about it, and it fills her with remorse.

She finally allows herself to listen to his deep breathing and uses the consistent, relaxing sound to lead her to drifting off as well.

* * *

Something cold suddenly brushes the back of her legs, immediately waking (Y/N) from her sleep. 

She lets out a surprised yelp before realizing that the man next to her had extended his feet forward, no doubt to warm his toes. She reflexively moves in the opposite direction, but she finds that his body immediately follows hers. The moment she stops, his right arm wraps around her waist and his left hand snakes up her back, his fingers combing through her hair. His feet are at the back of her legs again, cold toes freezing the skin it comes into contact with. She's gasping, trying to comprehend the position she’s been placed in. ‘ _Is he doing this in his sleep?_ ’ she wonders as she listens to the breathing in her ear; she finds that it's steady, but not shallow.

"Don't tell me that cute cry just now came from you," she hears his voice whisper in his ear. It's low and rough, a seductive tone she's never heard from the man.

She _knows_ Soldier: 76 is the one laying behind her, holding her, and breathing into her. It's just so easy for her to hear the voice and feel the hands and immediately think that they both belong to Jack Morrison, leader of Overwatch. She pictures his golden hair and his flawless face glowing in the soft light of the evening. She can't turn around to see either and she doesn't need to. The embrace- the proof that he's actually there - is enough. And it's bringing upon her an overpowering sense of lust.

She can feel Jack Morrison's fingers running through her hair. She shivers, but she knows better than to let her astonishment be known to her commander. "You woke me up with those damn cold feet of yours. Don't tell me you've been awake this entire time."

He chuckles into her neck, "I was." He confesses, leaving a single, burning kiss in the exposed crook. She sucks her breath and his arm around her waist tightens as an unconscious response. "If I were to be honest, I'd admit that I can never fall asleep when I'm next to you."

She's hot, but she holds firm to her slowly diminishing air of apathy. "Oh? All this because I might steal the covers?"

"Not even," his voice is low, boasting a strange rumble from his chest as he speaks. "Being next to you and not being able to touch you... It kills me." Morrison's right hand pulls up the hem of her shirt and softly grasps the skin of her waist. "When I'm with you,” he slowly continues, deliberately choosing his words, “it takes every ounce of strength I have to keep from holding you... breathing you in..." his hand firmly squeezes her hip, "... _fucking_ you.”

She opens her mouth but all that comes out is a loud moan as his left hand grabs a handful of hair as he quickly pulls her head back. His lips are back at her neck, furiously kissing and nipping at her skin. He growls in response to her echoing voice.

"It's hard to keep yourself in check when I make you feel this good, isn't it?" His shifts his hips forward and slowly grinds against her ass. There's something thick and hard separated by the layers of clothes. His breathing becomes labored the moment he collides with her. "Now you know how I feel."

She's stimulated by what is likely Jack Morrison’s dick. She thinks herself dirty for associating every action with the commander's, but she finds that if she focuses, it’s so easy to do. Well, is it really considered being disloyal if she’s imagining having sex with her superior rather than her friend?

"Please," He asks gruffly as he slowly grinds against her. "Won't you indulge this old man?"

She can't stop herself; the slow, dull pleasure is too much to contain. She moans without thinking, "Oh, Commander..."

The moment the words leave her lips, her eyes fly open (when had she closed them?) and he suddenly stops grinding. ‘Oh, shit,' is all that she can think.

(Y/N) _knows_ he’s figured out why she's been distant ever since the night in Dorado. An entire act of false transparency is shattered in a moment of intimacy, and now she’s sure he knows her secret: the man she’s attracted to – the man she’s always been attracted to – is Commander Jack Morrison. She's flustered like hell. The careless action ruined everything that existed between the two. What should she do not? Apologize? Pretend nothing happened? She can’t take back what she’s said, so now all she can do is try to save face, but where ought she to even start? Her cheeks are flushed red, she’s so humiliated.

After an eerie pause, Morrison reaches around to grab both her wrists in his left hand. He holds them above her head, pulling back slowly. "Well, soldier?" He responds curtly into the back of neck. "Your commanding officer asked you a question."

She’s not sure if she heard him right. Was he… playing along? "Yes, sir," she responds hesitantly, not quite sure if the scene unfolding is actually happening.

His right hand grabs her ass and squeezes it; she cries out upon the firm pressure. "I'll need you to be more specific, soldier. Do you want your commanding officer to fuck you?"

There’s no doubt in her mind, he’s absolutely indulging her. She has to keep herself from yelling in response, yet her voice is filled with longing and carnality. "Yes sir, please fuck me, Commander."

Morrison pulls her over with such ease that she's sitting on top of his stiff cock, still confined in his sweatpants. Her arms are bent and restrained just behind her head, and the hand that was holding her ass reaches to grab her hips. He rolls her forwards and backwards against his lap, forcing her to gyrate against his dick. He effortlessly sits up so that he can talk into the back of her neck. "In that case, I'll fuck you raw like the subordinate that you are." His tongue and teeth grace her skin and she lets out a loud cry. His hand lets go of her arms and opts to grab her face and chin, leaning it back so that her left ear lines with his lips. "And you show some damn respect,” he directs. “You’ll refer to me as Commander Morrison, or I'll have you demoted before even leaving this room. Understand?"

(Y/N) immediately confirms. "Yes, Commander Morrison."

Upon hearing her words, he pushes her off of his lap and toward the side of the bed. "Strip,” he orders.

She quickly takes off her clothes, so as not to waste her Commander’s time, and stands naked in the luminescence. She looks at him as he eyes her up and down, inspecting her entire body. Of course she's self-conscious by his glares; she should have shaved, put on body lotion, done anything to make her skin more appealing for the man… Regardless she carries herself as if she knows she’s the most divine creature on the planet. Before he can command it, she slowly pivots, allowing him to see all angles and soak in every inch of her body. When she's facing him again, she sees that there’s a hunger in his eyes. He opens his mouth, as though he's going to say something, but promptly clamps it shut. Instead, he pushes down the waistline of his sweatpants enough to let his erection extend out.

She already had a good idea of what it would look like based on their contact earlier, and she’s pleased to see her approximation is spot on. He’s well-endowed with what appears to be an average length, but boasts an incredible width. Eroticism builds upon seeing Commander Morrison’s thick dick and she is ecstatic that soon she’ll be able to take it in every way imaginable.

The man bids, "Come here,” as he gives slow strokes to his member. (Y/N) follows his direction and hastily crawls across the bed next to the man. She rests on her hands and knees right beside him, waiting patiently for him to act. He reaches over and his fingers immediately circle her aching cunt. The roaming of his digits is rough as he runs his fingers along her entrance; even so, she moans at the thrill he's providing.

He's sneeing. "You're this wet, just _thinking_ about your superior fucking you?" His entire hand rubs the area between her legs, grazing the sensitive nub of skin and eliciting her moan. "Lucky for you, I’m going to be filling a lot more than your thoughts tonight."

He immediately lies down on the bed. Before she can think to respond, he grabs her hips and pulls her so that she's straddling his stomach, just above his throbbing member. She's facing away from his torso, so she can see as he reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants to retrieve a condom. He hands it to her and moves his hand to rub his dick with the pre-ejaculation – her own – that coats his fingers. "Put that on," he commands. "I don't need any rumors about one of my shameless soldiers walking around, bearing my kid."

"Yes, Commander Morrison," she confirms. She un-wraps the plastic and carefully unrolls it across his member. Although it's been a long time since she's last had to use a condom, she finds that the dexterous fingers she's gained through her work helps her to put on the rubber with ease.

Once it's on, she waits patiently for his next command. Assuming she's finished, he grabs her hips and moves her to hover directly above his cock. "You're going to use my dick to fuck yourself," he says in a rugged tone. "Don't hold back."

Her eyes practically shimmer. She can’t believe this is happening; she’s actually about to have Commander Morrison's dick deep inside of her, and she would have full control over how deep and how fast she would be screwing herself. "Yes sir. Thank you, Commander Morrison."

She eases onto the cock, immediately finding it to be a task in itself. It's been a long time since she last had this form of physical contact and she isn’t used to being filled by such a thick cock. She gradually lowers herself, breathing heavily and moaning, somehow finding pleasure through the pain. Once she's reached the hilt, she pauses and breathes, relishing having his dick all the way inside of her. His hands are still at her hips, with thick thumbs rubbing surprisingly comforting circles into the skin just above her ass. She shifts her body, allowing the dick to stretch the inner walls of her vagina; she can hear the man behind her moaning as an effect of rubbing against her warmth.

Only after she's accustomed to the width does she begin to slide herself up slowly. She's trembling, trying to keep herself from crashing back down again, but she finds that the hands at her hips are holding her effortlessly to provide support so she can move smoothly. She comes back down again, exhaling as she hits the hilt with a single downward thrust. She moves slowly, but she's pleasured when pushed deep against him once more. She slides on his dick, steadily gaining speed until she's at a tempo where she's bouncing up and down, his tip hitting deeper and deeper within her core.

She can hear that he's breathing heavily. She continues to bounce and moan in pleasure while his hands move up her body and grab more skin – back, stomach, arms, and breasts - provoking a low sigh from her with each new area of skin roughly groped.

“So fucking tight,” he moans. His hands suddenly grab her hips again, resolving to hold her in place and drill into her with powerful momentum. She cries out to show complete satisfaction as her commander pumps harder and faster. She reaches down and rubs an index finger against her clit. Either Morrison doesn’t notice her action or he doesn’t care, but it’s her light stroking that causes her orgasm.

She's seeing stars. She's calling out unintelligible sentences, unable to articulate whatever she's thinking. Her breathing hitches and she feels a wave of warmth starting in her chest and extending throughout her body to the tips of her fingers. Her body stiffens then becomes limp; she loses all of her strength after cumming on her commander’s dick.

He senses her peak but does not show any sign of stopping. He pushes her forward so that she's face-first on the bed. "On your knees," he barks.

“Yes, Commander Morrison.” As tired as she may be, she obeys and brings herself on all fours. She knows that being fucked by her commander is worth every discomfort.

He inserts himself into her from behind and starts at an unforgivingly fast pace. He's pounding her hard, forcing deep breaths and shrill cries from the female. His hands claw at her hips and grunts in approval.

"So what exactly is your plan, (Y/N)?" he leans forward to growl into her shoulder. "You let your commander fuck you senseless, but for what? There are much more merciful ways to get promoted around here."

She gasps, finding it hard to organize her thoughts with the combination of having cum already and still being thoroughly fucked. "That's not-" her moans interrupt her statement. Before she realizes it, her filter is gone, and she’s dictating what she’s always thought but was unable to say. "I've admired you since the day I first saw you,” she says in a forlorn tone, “I wanted you to fuck me from day one, because I was attracted to everything about you. You're handsome, strong, always striving to help others. I’ve wanted you to accept me, and I’d do anything to make you-"

She moans as his calloused hands reach around her - one to cup her breast and the other to rub her numb clitoris. Both hands move at a furious speed and hold her against his clothed chest while his pounding becomes faster and harder still. “Well then,” he groans, “while we’re being honest, let me say that you’re more than just a soldier. I’ve recognized your work and now I know how to reward you for it.”

His strong arms grab her and quickly turn her over. For the first time since sheathing himself into her, they are looking at each other; they don’t even have a second to appreciate it before he reinserts himself and continues to buck relentlessly into her. She’s startled to see that he isn’t even breaking a sweat despite the power and control that he’s placing behind his thrusts. She does, however, recognize his flustered breathing as he continues to approach his own orgasm.

“In return for your commitment to Overwatch,” he addresses smoothly despite his heavy panting, “I’ll keep you here as my right hand. I’ll give you praise for your hard work and discipline wherever I deem fit. I’ll continue to provide your body satisfaction, because you deserve to receive your Commander’s affection.” He places one hand on her cheek and gently rubs circles into her skin while the other remains to support his body. The moment is unexpectedly intimate, deeply contrasting the firm and unwavering thrusting that continues into her cunt. He closes his eyes and continues. “Don’t even think about finding someone else to fuck you this good. You are mine alone to fuck, do you understand?”

She’s breathing heavily, close to reaching her plateau once more. “Yes, Commander Morrison,” she calls.

“No,” he’s almost shouting. He continues his fast pace and the hand on her cheek moves to her stomach. His calloused thumb extends to rub her bud and rubs small circles, heightening her pleasure and causing her to cry out. “Say my name,” he says in a voice so eager it can almost be perceived as begging, “Say my fucking name.”

The combination of stimulation and hearing his request is all she needs, and she discharges a powerful orgasm. The warmth encompasses her body once more, but before she can let it turn her into a thoughtless mess she forces her voice out of her throat as she screams his name, “Jack, ooh, Jack-”

His lips crash onto hers, and there’s a searing sensation where they connect. He lets out a loud moan and suddenly his thrusting is slow and deep. He’s panting as both his hands move to her sides and he pushes himself deeper and deeper into her. With every thrust, he releases a deep snarl as he spills ribbons of his seed, his reward for such an obedient soldier.

And just as suddenly as the entire thing had started, it's all over. He rolls off of her and onto the bed to her right. They’re both lying side by side on their backs and catching their breath. She allows herself to float on the indulgence she'd just felt. Once she’s finally cooled off, she realizes just how cold the London air is just as goose bumps graze her skin.

The man removes the spent condom and tosses it on the floor swiftly. He’s still breathing deeply as he turns to her direction and reaches for her body. Without even thinking, (Y/N) rolls into his chest and instantly warms up when his arms wrap around her back.

At first, she doesn’t want to break the silence between them, but she knows that she has to speak now to save any relationship they have – romantic or otherwise. “Jack,” she proceeds carefully, “Thank you.”

He grunts in reply; it’s a typical response of his that’s completely undecipherable. He holds her as his hand rubs small circles into her back. After a short pause, he finally dictates what’s on his mind. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” he begins in a melancholy voice. “I had a feeling you liked me, but I was patient. I wanted to make sure that I was right to think you’d see anything in this old man.” He chuckles humorlessly, “I guess I was wrong this entire time.”

Too many thoughts are running through her mind now, and she’s having a hard time finding the right words to say. She wants to explain that she sees him as a friend, and connecting her friend to her long-time love interest isn’t something she can easily do. All she can manage is a sincere voice saying, “I’m so sorry.”

He sighs in response. “I’m the one who should be sorry. If I’d known you earlier – back in the glory days, I guess – I could have avoided this entire mess. We would have made a great team from the very beginning, you and me. I’d bet you would want me now if I had pursued you when I was younger… more attractive…”

She wants to interrupt him but he continues before she can. “You know, I can’t be that guy. Jack Morrison. He died a long ago with Overwatch. Honestly, Jack Morrison was a jerk – if this entire evening isn’t a true enough case-and-point, I don’t know what is. He may have seemed like some kind of hero, but he was just as selfish as the next guy. He’d never deserve someone as kind, and strong, and…” his hand reaches for the back of her neck and his thumb rolls to stroke her soft cheek, “as _beautiful_ as you are.”

(Y/N) notices tears budding in her eyes. “Jack…” she squeaks quietly. She sees the harm she’s caused him and hates herself for hurting her friend. Unsure of what to say, she leans forward and places a slow kiss on him. She can feel his smile against her lips, but she can’t tell if it is genuine.

And for some unearthly reason, they leave the conversation at that. She is sexually satisfied and comfortable, yet a pit wells in her stomach and fills with self-hate and despair. She’s hurt her friend and she’s not sure how to fix it – if indeed it can be repaired.

Even as he falls asleep, he continues to rub small circles into her back, acting as a reminder of his presence next to her. She knows it’s his way of providing comfort, but she is uneasy as a result. His movement is a consistent reminder that he is there, and that she’d hurt him. She’s caused distress and pain to the one who always wants her to be comfortable – even now, when she is undeserving of it.

It isn’t until his slumber halts the slow movements of his hands that she finds she can follow.

* * *

(Y/N) wakes up before dawn the next day, filled with determination. The decision she’s made is a desperate one, but one that she believed to be for the best. She quietly slips out of bed and changes clean clothes, ensuring she does not interrupt the softly-snoring man's slumber. She collects her possessions and carefully sneaks into the living area.

She cannot walk out without an explanation, but she knows she won’t be able to consult him face-to-face. She takes the time to write a note and leaves it on the dining room table alongside the remaining bags of tea – a peace offering, she bitterly decides.

She walks silently out of the hotel room without looking back.

The faint hints of sunrise shine on the letter that sits on the table:

 

_Jack,_

_I’m sorry I have to leave like this, but I can’t speak with you now. I’m sorry that I put you in the situation where you thought I only loved Commander Morrison. In truth, I see you as an irreplaceable ally, and being with you last night has only proved that to be correct. However, it doesn’t take away from the fact that I’ve fucked up our friendship. I don’t deserve to be a part of your life after causing you this pain._

_I don’t know where I’m going, but I plan on finding myself so that I can one day be a kinder, stronger, more beautiful person. Please accept my decision and leave me be. We may never meet again, but I hope to live up to your exceedingly high expectations and become the hero the world needs._

_Thank you for everything you’ve provided up until this point. I will always treasure the time we spent together. I hope that one day you find another partner even half as competent as me, but hopefully twice as kind._

_Please, try not to get yourself killed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two more chapters planned - one is a redemption arc and the other is more filth, so please keep an eye out for them!
> 
> Also, I have a tumblr if you'd like to send me prompts or story suggestions for the future. You can find me at:  
> starpants.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	3. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years have passed and our hero has continued to strive to become the vigilante the world needs. After a night of risking her life and being patched up, she finally realizes it's something she doesn't have to do by herself.

The fallen Overwatch Agent (Y/N) stands alone in an unknown, dark alleyway as thick blood trickles down her face from a wound running across her forehead. She’s breathing deeply to refill her lungs, believing that she's safe for the moment from pursuit. A minute of panting passes, and she decides to search for clean water to wash herself.

She curses softly at the situation she's in. The job she’s taken is one that she is severely unprepared for. It was a task that needed to be done but had no one willing to do it; it's right up her alley in terms of that "hero of the hour," load of crap she’s been trying to promote herself to. Now she can only scoff at how foolish she was to take it on without performing a more thorough reconnaissance.

The job was to find and bring in three escaped criminals, dead or alive. One woman versus three convicts _seems_ like an easy enough job on paper, but she had been proved wrong very quickly. The men, as it turns out, are all her equal in fighting prowess. When she attempted to launch a surprise attack, they had no trouble defending themselves from her bullets the moment they came flying. They retaliated immediately and a terrifying battle commenced. While they had no guns of their own, they made up for the disadvantage with incredible strength and speed. To her dismay, their skin was thick enough to take a few bullets without being slowed down; they used this to their advantage and would try to move into close quarters, where she can’t adjust her aim quickly, and attack. The moment one of them got close enough to slice her face open with a crowbar, she absconded.

She stumbles through alley, unsure how close the brutes are. She has to decide what should be done after cleaning the flesh. She's made a promise to become the hero the world needs, and now she has to decide: does being the hero mean staying and fighting to the last breath or running to fight another day?

It's moments like these, where her life hangs in the balance, that she realizes just how desperately she misses her old partner. ' _Stop,_ ' she thinks as she shakes her head. She feels dizzy from the movement, accentuated further by the loss of blood. ' _You can't think back to those days every time you're in these situations. You've got to find a way to move on._ '

"Over here," a voice shouts from the other end of the alleyway. She snaps out of her thoughts and turns her head in the direction of the airy, panting voice. There's no mistaking that the burly figure is one of the three she had previously escaped from. "The bitch's hiding in this alley."

"Shit," she spits. She doesn't have time to think of a plan of action; she turns and she bolts in the opposite direction as fast as her body will allow.

(Y/N) doesn’t have a lot of knowledge of the city’s layout, but she does the best she can to navigate through the passages in an attempt to shake the criminals. She hears the pounding of feet behind her and feels the presence of three men catching up, yelling for her to stop. The pounding in her head makes her feel unbalanced, and she knows it won't be long before the men approach her. As a hasty gambit, she turns around suddenly and fires bullets from her handgun into the alley. Her entire round makes contact with skin but all three show no sign of halting.

She curses again, furious that she'd made such a foolish move. Now they’re close enough to reach her within five minutes, provided all four continue running, all because she stopped to fire her weapon. The vigilante doesn’t know the city well enough to find somewhere to hide, and it’s blatantly clear that running is no longer a viable option; she decides that the only thing she can do at this point is stand her ground and fight. She has delirious faith in her combative capabilities, even if they haven’t been extremely effective yet. ‘ _Maybe I won’t make it out alive,_ ’ she humors the thought, ‘ _but I’m not going down without a fight. The very least I can hope for is that I can make this job easier for the next guy._ ’

With tenacity, she sprints at full speed towards the three men racing in her direction. With her gun pointed down the backstreet she advances, the pounding in her head grows louder as she approaches what she can only assume is her destiny.

The mercenary had only been running for a maximum of three seconds when a sudden explosion erupts on the ground between her and the men. She is thrown back by the impact and the wind is knocked out of her lungs the moment she hits the ground. The ringing in her ears resounds over everything else in the alleyway. She can faintly hear the men speaking – likely yelling – from a distance.

"Hey get out of the way," she deciphers. "We've got business with the bitch."

"Who is this clown?" a second voice asks. It's hard to tell with the buzzing in her head, but she could swear that he sounded nervous; maybe even terrified.

"I'm the clown that's gonna bring you punks to justice."

An all-too-familiar voice cuts its way through the noise. The moment she hears it, a wave of relief washes over her; she's not alone anymore. She props herself up to look down the alley and she sees a tall man with broad shoulders standing with his back to her. She doesn't need the leather jacket to know that Soldier: 76, has come out of the shadows to fight. And at this point, she’s so damn thankful he has.

She swiftly reloads her gun and waits for his cue; she sees his footing change and takes it as her opportunity to jump up and fire from beside the man. Her sudden movement catch the three off guard, but they come to their senses and resume charging.

The battle resumes, but this time (Y/N) has the upper hand. For every movement she makes, Soldier: 76 follows her with another attack, then she follows him, and so on. The pattern effectively covers both mercenaries and closes any opening that would allow the criminals to retaliate. There is strength in her actions that come as a result of having Soldier: 76 as back-up. She feels as though she can accomplish any task with the man at her side; it's a feeling of capability that she's surprised she's lasted so long without.

Together, they overpower the three. After some time, the criminals lay unconscious on the ground, their hands zip-tied behind their backs. As soon as they are lined up, the woman calls her contact, the city's Police Chief, to inform him that her mission is complete. In a short amount of time, Police personnel arrive on the scene and arrest the criminals before have a chance to gather their strength and react.

She meets with the man that hired her for the job in the first place. She has it in her right mind to berate him for not giving proper warning about how dangerous these criminals were, but she doesn't think it'll affect her "hero" image all too well. Besides, it’s her own fault she didn’t take the time to do a proper investigation before attacking.

He passes her a cash envelope, which she takes and begins to count to ensure all funds promised are at hand. "You didn't tell me you were working with another bounty hunter," the chief states as he points his thumb down the street to where Soldier: 76 leans steadily against a brick wall.

She sighs, realizing that now the battle’s over, she’s going to have to actually talk to the old man. It was easy to forget in the heat of battle, but they still aren’t in a position where they can be cordial towards one another – at least not immediately. She isn’t even sure how to start a conversation with him. Being apart for two years deserves more of a salutation than, 'Hello,' but anything else seems too delicate to say right off the bat.

"To be fair," she responses without looking up from the bills she’s counting, "I didn't know we'd be working together either." She verifies that the amount is paid in full, and she extends her hand to signify the completed transaction. When the man reaches to grab it, she firmly pulls his arm towards her, staring intensely into his eyes. "And that man's no bounty hunter."

The officer shows no sign of intimidation. "Pleasure doing business with you," he replies tersely. He obviously doesn’t care what about the occupation of either individual as long as his problem is taken care of. She swears she hears him say, ‘filthy mercenary,’ under his breath, downright unentertained by her show of intimidation, but  she’s has more important things to do than pick a fight with a man evidently doing his job.

She walks away with a huff and heads straight to the man leaning against the wall far from the action. They stand in silence at first, her eyes stare into the glowing visor that covers his face. Although it's been some time since they've last seen one another, it doesn't look like he's changed a bit; he's still the same old grump she calls her partner.

Or, at least, that's what she used to call him. The whole "partner" thing still up in the air. She still isn’t sure how he took her walking out just under two years ago.

"Hey," is all she can start with.

"Hey," he responds. The coolness behind his voice is enough to send a shiver up her spine.

She looks over her shoulder to see who else is watching their awkward exchange. Thankfully, the police are occupied with their job, and any passerby in the vicinity – anyone foolish enough to walk around this late at night – could easily be distracted by the scene of the crime.

"Well," she inquires. "Now what?"

He scoffs, as if the next step should be obvious. "You need to get cleaned up.”

* * *

She sits quietly in Soldier: 76's motel room. It’s small and familiar. The mercenary's belongings are unpacked and absentmindedly placed in different parts of the room; it's a habit he formed out of convenience, but it helps to make the room feel a little more like home. (Y/N) finds that the area is comfortable despise the cramped spacing.

There is a soft, yellow glow surrounding her. The table to her right holds a strange cylinder around which a large, unusual dome glows. Under the arch, she feels warm and cool at the same time, like she’s immersed in menthol vapor. It soothes every inch of her skin and breathing the air in rejuvenates all of her senses.

The mercenary steps in front of her. He's still wearing his full uniform; he's been busy tending to his guest from the moment the the walked in, so of course he hasn’t had the time to remove any of his gear. He holds a wash-bin against his hip with one hand, and the other has a tepid cup. He passes the beverage to her immediately. "Careful,” he says simply, “It's hot." He sets the bin on the table beside a dry towel lined with a sterilized suture and needle, gauze, and medical tape.

She nods in reply and takes a small sip. Even after all this time, he remembers how to prepare her tea - short steep with crème. It doesn't come as a surprise to her, but she certainly appreciates his attention to detail. "I see you've gotten a few new toys," she says to open a conversation.

He sets a chair across from (Y/N) and sits down. He reaches into the bin and pulls out a towel soaked with water and soap. "Yeah," he mumbles as he wrings the towel. His head nudges towards the canister sitting on the table. "That's a Biotic Field, it heals injuries. It's saved me in a few pinches before." He brings the towel to the gash on her forehead; she hisses at the stinging feeling but doesn't allow herself to recoil. "It can't prevent infection, though."

She breathes slowly, clenching her fists as he cleans the wound thoroughly. "The explosion in the alleyway, was that you too?" she asks, genuinely curious.

"Mhm," he drones as he applies light pressure to the area. He moves the towel slowly across her forehead to remove debris from the skin. She feels discomfort but does not speak up, opting instead to allow him to focus on his work rather than worry about how she's feeling. He certainly doesn't seem to be phased by her reactions anyway. "They’re Helix Rockets, just an enhancement for my pulse rifle. It uses a lot of energy so I can't fire it often. They’re pretty powerful though."

She groans loudly. "I know that," she retorts, "You almost hit me with it."

"Oops." He sound jaded; was he poking fun at her?

There's a short, almost awkward pause as he continues to wipe across her forehead. She bites the inside of her cheek before speaking again. "What have you been doing over the last two years."

He responds simply, "I was searching for the truth behind the fall of Overwatch."

She noticeably perks up upon hearing the statement. "And?" she asks, eager to hear what he's learned. "Did you find out anything?"

He only shrugs and offers a short grunt to her question. She waits for him to speak further, but he does not. Instead, he continues to clean her as he approaches the end of the cut. ' _Did he fail?_ ' she thinks to herself. She knows better than to ask him, though. They continue in silence as he decides to wipe the dried remains of blood off of her face.

She doesn't blame him for his feigned interest in their conversation. It's not like she doesn’t deserve this treatment from him… She was the one who left him alone all that time ago. There was also the fact that she hurt his feelings back when they were so close; it's an action she still regrets to this day.

She decides to move on to a more pressing conversation. "How did you find me?" She doesn’t hesitate to bring an accusatory tone to the question. His visor hides his expression, but the pause he takes before explaining himself is enough of a sign showing his reluctance to come clean.

"I've been following rumors," he says slowly, "They're all about a vigilante that does the jobs that no one else will. There were stories of gangs being disbanded, stolen people being retrieved, crooks and dictators suddenly disappearing… Most of these stories seemed impossible for just one person to do, but I knew better." He pulls the towel away and places it back into the tub. From the table he grabs the tools needed to stitch the skin shut. His focus on threading the suture needle kept him from looking at her. "So, whenever I heard one of these stories, I'd pack my things and go to see if the woman described matched your description - it almost always did."

(Y/N) inhales through her teeth. She wants to yell at him for ignoring her wish to be left alone, but she finds that she cannot. In the most simplistic reasoning, she probably wouldn't be alive now if he hadn’t been searching for her as meticulously as he had these last couple of years.

He pauses to hear her retort, but when it doesn't come, he looks back to her. “I need you to stay still while I seal the wound.”

She nods and allows his gloved hands to reach up and stitch her skin. The needle pulling feels unpleasant, but certainly not painful.

He continues speaking as he skillfully and slowly works across her forehead. "I figured out that you were following a relatively straight line across the globe, so I researched any mercenary jobs along the path that no one else would take. When I found out about the search for those three convicts, I contacted the officer, who said that the job was already filled. He let me know that, and I quote, 'If she fails, you're welcome to give it a shot.'" He pauses for a moment to focus on a more difficult area of the scarred face. After inspecting it, Soldier: 76 sighs and continues. “I called two days ago and rushed here immediately after. I’m surprised that you didn’t take more time to see what those men were capable of before trying to take them in.”

She sulks and rolls her eyes, “Yeah, I figured that was a mistake early on.”

“Don’t move,” he warns her, and she becomes conscious of her body again. The last thing she wants is an uneven line across her brow. “I got lucky, though," he explains quietly, "I heard some men shouting and chasing some woman, and I ran over to help her. Imagine my surprise when the person I rushed to help turned out to be the same one I’d been tracking.”

She doesn’t offer a response. She isn’t really sure whether she should be taking his explanation with a grain of salt, or if it’s indicative of the obligation he may still has to act as her support, because long ago, he _was_ her partner and they _were_ close. Either way, she’s grateful that he found her when he did, but she’s much too stubborn to show that she appreciates him going against her wishes.

As he progresses, he speaks up again, "Is it true that you didn't take payment for most of those jobs?"

She exhales the breath she’s unknowingly holding. "The reason why most mercenaries wouldn't take those jobs was because there was no profit to them," she explains. "Even if they did pay, no one else would do so much for pennies. I'd take a few jobs here and there that paid, just so I could take care of myself, but I'd never accept money from people who couldn't afford it. Being able to make a change was enough of a reward for me."

The thread reaches the end of the scar, and with one final tug the skin is sealed shut. After tying it off, Jack takes the wet cloth out of the bin, squeezes out the water, and lightly wipes over the area to ensure that there isn't anything loose enough to be snagged. After replacing the towel in the bin, he takes the gauze off the table, covers the area, and tapes one end of the cloth carefully to her temple. She can't tell if he's making eye contact with her or if he's eyeing his work when he speaks up. "I saw the people whose lives you affected. You've done good."

She smiles softly. "I'm glad to hear that. I have high expectations to live up to."

(Y/N) hears his sigh. The yellow barrier provides an ethereal glow as the man finishes his task. She feels warm; it may be due to being under the dome, but it's more likely the result of the man’s genuine praise. Either way, this is the happiest she's felt in years.

He completes the suture and draws his hands away; she takes them with her own before he can pull away entirely. "Jack," she calls in a soft voice. She sees his chest tighten as he inhales a sharp breath. "I'm sorry that I left you."

He lets his breath out, and his head lowers to look at her hands holding his own. "I know there's nothing I could have done to stop you," he justifies. "I just wish I had the opportunity to ask you to stay."

She feels a tightness in her chest, the result of a racing heart. She gently places his right hand on her lap and hold his left. Without questioning she takes the time to carefully remove the glove he's still wearing. Her deliberate movements match her words. "I don't deserve your kind treatment after being so selfish."

She completely removes the glove and takes a moment to admire the calloused and strong palm as she prods and runs her own finger along each of his digits. She then sets it down on her legs and takes the second hand. "I fell in love with Jack Morrison, my commander, and I pined for him even after he passed away." Once the second hand is bare as well, it receives the same stimulating treatment. "I was shocked when I learned that he was alive, albeit a completely different person. I was also in disbelief; I think it's because I had a specific image of what Jack Morrison was like, and you… You're nothing like that image. But it's better that way. Jack Morrison didn't save my life, work by my side, or support me when I was hurt… You did. Every opportunity you had to help me, you did. And how did I repay you? I hurt your feelings, all because I was selfish and actively, unknowingly chose to cling to a desire from when I was an Overwatch agent."

She lifts his hands to her face and kisses his knuckles lightly. She hears his hitched breathing through the visor as she continues. "I couldn't find the words then, but I really should have taken the time to instead of running away from the problem. You never deserved that treatment - any of it. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry."

It's so hard for her to guess at what he's feeling, all because he's wearing that damn mask. He allows her to hold his hands without any signs of wanting to pull away, so at least he's not brushing her off entirely.

"…And now?" He asks quietly. His voice is strained, but she has no idea why.

She shakes her head and squeezes his hands. "Honestly, I haven't got a clue. I've been so caught up with trying to be some kind of hero… I haven't seriously thought about any of it in a long time." She smiles at him. Her cheeks flush as she finds the words to say. "I realize that I treasure our friendship, ant that there's a lot more I can do if I'm by your side, so…” She looks deep into his visor as if staring into his eyes. “For the time being… Would it be alright if you and I worked together again?"

She can feel the grin from behind his mask. His fingers wrap around her hands and offer a tight squeeze "Yeah. I'd like that."

(Y/N) smiles and it's sincere. She doesn’t realize how lonely she’s been until she feels complete joy to have the man back in her life again. She gently pulls her hands away from his embrace and reaches up towards his the visor. She prods at the top of the obstruction and, when he does not stop her, she pulls down.

He doesn't look like he's changed at all in the last two years. He certainly looks tired, but otherwise every wrinkle and every scar is exactly as she left it. His bright blue eyes are what surprise her most; they're irritated and watery, reminding her of the raw emotion she felt the night she discovered her partner’s identity. ' _Was he… crying?_ ' she asks herself, but decides against calling attention to it.

She reaches her hand up and her fingers ghost across the man's face. "Jeez, Jack," she says, trying to lighten the mood, "The least you could have done is try to look a little older."

He scoffs. "Shut up. We can't all age with grace."

She laughs – a loud and genuine laugh – and it's the most sincere sound she's let out in such a long time. She closes her eyes and smiles as her fingers run across the long scar that covers his features. "I hope my scar turns out half as cool as yours."

"It'll certainly be an improvement," he teases. She can hear the soft smirk in his voice.

She smiles disbelievingly. "You know, I never thought I'd get to see you again."

After a brief silence, his hands reach to cup her cheeks and her eyes open upon feeling the contact. She's staring directly into deep blue as he speaks. "But I'm here now," he replies in a quiet voice. "I've searched for you this entire time because I wanted you to know... I never resented you for what happened. After all that we've been through, I want to fight by your side.” He breathes and continues slowly. “If I had the opportunity, I would have chosen to fight beside you this entire time."

"Thank you," she whispers. Her eyes flutter as she finds herself getting lost in his gaze. She leans her head into his hands, enjoying the warmth of his calloused palms. She catches herself before her words can be interpreted as affectionate in any way. "Thanks for patching me up. I probably wouldn't have been able to clean the wound as well as you did."

He grunts. "No problem," he says simply.

He retracts his hands and stands from his chair. The canister on the table, which had stopped providing its glow a few minutes prior, is grabbed and tossed into the garbage bin in the kitchenette. Jack returns minutes later with two fresh cups of tea (hers had become lukewarm during the entire procedure). She sips patiently as the beverage cools, and the friends talk about everything they'd missed over the last two years. She tells him stories about some of her most interesting feats and he listens intently to every single one. She's happy to hear his stories too; she’s enthralled by his tale about his return to Dorado and how he risked his life to save a little girl from _Los Muertos_. As the night goes on, he takes off his jacket and she takes off her boots. They do it to become more comfortable, but it’s also a sign showing that they are learning to be comfortable around one another again. They talk like old friends, without a problem in the world and without stop. Before they know it, it's three in the morning and they're fighting off weariness.

"It's late," he stifles a yawn. "You can take the bed, I'll sleep-"

"Oh no!" she almost shouts. She catches herself before continuing – waking anybody up at this hour is asking for trouble. "We are not playing this game. This is your damn room-"

"I'm not going to let my guest sleep on the floor!" he retorts, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just sleep on the bed, alright?!"

She puffs out her chest. There’s no way she’s giving him the satisfaction of winning this argument. "I’ll only sleep in the bed if you sleep there too."

He raises a brow. "Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, I don’t want you sleeping on the floor!"

"You sure that’s alright?"

"Yes!"

"Then I will!"

"Good!"

They're too exhausted to argue any further. They fall into bed unceremoniously and sleep finds them almost instantaneously. Her last, conscious thoughts revolve around her relief that everything has fallen back into place, almost as if she’d never left.

* * *

When the sun touches her skin the next morning, (Y/N) feels a gentle embrace. She's exhausted after being up so late the night before, so she doesn't want to wake up and figure out if the touch is real or a part of her dream.

"I'm glad you're back," she hears a breath tickle her neck. She feels a pair of lips gently touching her jawline. “I'm not letting you out of my sights again… I just can’t let you get hurt again, damn it. I’m in love with you.”

The words come so simply that she has a hard time believing she even heard correctly. If this was indeed actually happening, then her friend and partner had just confessed to have been in love with her…

She decides that the entire situation is too straightforward to be real. She mentally brushes it all off as an elaborate dream and falls back to deep slumber, not willing to waste a moment more to decipher whatever unconscious desires led her to fabricating such a wonderful fantasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Hopefully this chapter makes up for any broken hearts caused by the last one! I still have one more chapter planned, so please stay tuned!
> 
> As always, you can send me prompts or story suggestions for the future on my tumblr account. You can find me at:  
> starpants.tumblr.com


	4. Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of this story.
> 
> There's also smut o: so please enjoy! c:

Jack and (Y/N) discover that their professional relationship has changed dynamics shortly after being reunited. They continue their work through cities, acting as vigilantes and cleaning scum off the roads. By any eye-witness accounts they appear extremely close, although they act as professionals in public. Away from prying eyes, they find themselves engaging in an abundance of physical affection they had never shared in the past.

Just as it’s always been, they watch each other's backs in battle. Together, they’re as efficient and powerful as a machine. When one is hurt, the other steps in to compensate for the disadvantage so that they finish their jobs quickly and to the fullest extent. The tactic also ensures that both leave with minor injuries.

After fights, they tend to each other's wounds, all the while scolding the other's recklessness. Thankfully, they've only had a few injuries lately - cuts, sprains, and the like on their arms, hands, and legs. None the less, the lecture either mercenary provides carries weight. The night ends with small kisses on the fresh bandages and promises to be more careful in the future.

They hold hands whenever they are alone – even when they’re in open spaces. Sometimes, he'll bring her hands up to his mask, imitating giving it a kiss. She laughs it off, but she finds the action endearing.

They share the same motel room and they never argue about whether or not the male sleeps on the floor. They often find themselves holding one another sometime in the middle of the night, and they stay embraced until they're awake in the morning. Neither mercenary shows a hint of embarrassment after waking up in each other’s arms.

Since finding each other again, they hadn't kissed romantically or engaged in any other intimate activity. Their association is defined by physical contact in the most platonic sense. It is a small comfort that's offered as a reminder: "I'm here, I'll support you." At first, it was a sign of a devoted friendship, but somewhere along the line, the woman finds herself craving his touch, so much so that she feels hollow if she doesn't have access to it for a long period of time.

(Y/N) isn't sure when she actually fell in love with Soldier: 76, but she realizes in that short amount of time that the feelings she has towards the man are more than just fondness for her comrade.

There’s a night about three weeks after the reunion in which the mercenary can’t hide her adoration any longer. That night, they are sitting in a motel room after a completed mission; they’re both dressed comfortably in sleepwear and relaxing around a small dining table. The two sit together and drink tea, just as they’d always done, though the contented silence they share inexplicably makes it harder for the female to breathe. Resolving to make herself known, she sets her cup on the table and stands from her seat. Soldier: 76 looks up just as she’s closing in, and in those few seconds she sees a look of surprise on his features.

The female closes her eyes and catches his lips on her own. She kisses Jack slowly, savoring the sparks that race through her body as she brings her fingertips to his shoulders and grips onto his shirt tightly. She's pleased when he returns the kiss and matches her tempo, and her heart flutters in her chest when his own hands reach for her waist and pull her gently forward and adjacent to him.

She pulls away and there’s a moment of silence as they catch their breath. "Was that okay?" (Y/N) asks, slightly discomposed by her sudden action. It’s uncharacteristic of her to let down her unaffected demeanor so easily in embarrassing situations, but she finds that when she’s around Jack Morrison, it's impossible to keep a level head.

He offers a cocked grin in response. "Better than okay,” he teases, his grip still firm upon her hips. “Where did that come from?"

"I needed segue," her cheeks grow hot, but she’s already too far in to turn back. She brings her hands to the back of his neck, lacing her fingers behind his head and extending her thumbs to stroke his cheeks. She stares into his eyes as she confesses, "I'm in love with you, Jack." Her words are accompanied by the loud beating of her heart. She wonders briefly if he can hear the eruption in her chest.

"It's about time," he grumbles after a short, unnerving silence. He leans forward and presses a passionate kiss upon her lips. He moves equally as slowly as she had moments before, but there is a burning in the pit of her stomach because _he's kissing her_.

They pull apart again, and he reaches to leave supple kisses on her eyelids. "I love you, too," he responds in the deep, sincere voice. He pauses before he shifts down to kiss the tip of her nose. His fingers hold firmly onto her sides, itching to grasp more but showing restraint. "I'd like to show you the depths of my affection, if you'll let me."

She's suddenly dizzy from hearing his words; she knows the man well enough to understand the nature of his request. Jack Morrison, the grumpy old coot and vigilante who's supported her all this time, wants to prove his fidelity using his touch alone. Her indifferent facade is shattered now, if it had even been intact minutes ago.

(Y/N) leans forward to catch his lips again, and this time she acts with haste. Her hands pull at the back of his neck to deepen the kiss, desperate to caress more of him. He reacts by tugging her body forward until she’s kneeling in his chair, straddling his legs. She pulls away slowly; although she's reluctant to forsake his skin, the view she has of his half-lidded, zealous eyes makes up for it. "Don't hold back," she taunts with a grin. Shameless fervor saturates her voice.

He chuckles in reply. His leg rises and gently rubs the inside of her thigh and her crotch. The connection is brief and light, but it elicits a moan from her all the same. His voice, deep and boasting a low rumble, replies, "After waiting for two years, I don't think I can."

She doesn't have the energy to comment. She leans forward as she kisses him once more with purpose; her tongue explores his lips and his mouth in an attempt to be closer to the man. The marvelous sound of his soft breathing and her deep moans fills the air. His hands reach under her shirt and explore her body, and he breathes loudly through his nose as he touches and squeezes different areas of her skin.

She rocks her body to grind against his crotch, but within seconds Jack is suddenly reaching beneath her to grab her ass. With no effort, he stands and carries her to the bed without breaking kiss. He carefully sets her down and supports himself above her, only allowing gravity to weigh down his head in an effort to deepen the contact between his mouth and hers. After some time, he lifts himself in favor of showing tenderness to different areas of her face, starting on her cheekbone and working down her neck.

Jack's hands travel to the bottom of her shirt and gently tug. She shifts her body, sit up, and pulls off the garment, breaking away to expose her bare skin to the man before her. She’s pleased to see his face glow with satisfaction upon seeing her soft skin. He closes his eyes and lets his lips carefully descent back onto her neck. His hands gently squeeze her shoulders, her arms, and her waist as he trails his mouth along her entire body. She offers a content sigh to show her appreciation for his contiguity. Jack rotates himself around her body and ends the trail between her shoulder blades. His hands reach to her bra strap, which he unclasps easily, and his lips grace the skin where the garment was latched moments ago. He carefully pulls her bra down her shoulders by the straps. After it's thrown to the floor, his hands reach around and grasp her breasts, eliciting a soft moan from her chest. He gently rubs the skin as his lips continue to flow up her back, following a path to back of her neck. "You're stunning," he practically moans into her. "Every inch. I just can't get over how perfect you are."

She can only sigh in response as his lips leave a burning kiss against her pulse. She had no idea that Jack could be such a doting partner, but to be fair he never had the opportunity to offer such elaborate foreplay. She turns around to him, forcing him to release his contact with her breasts and her neck. His eyes widen as he sees her bare torso; he’s excited by the sight, yet his hands twitch by his side and wait for direction. "I want to feel your body too." She pleads softly as her fingers reach to trace down his chest. Through his clothes, she notices heat radiating from the man.

He leans in to leave a swift kiss on her lips. Without speaking, he pulls back and removes his shirt in one fluid motion; (Y/N) finds that she has to hold her breath to keep from gasping loudly. She's never seen the man shirtless before, and nothing could have prepared her for the sight. His chest is broad and muscled, more-so than she could have imagined. A few scars litter the torso, only adding to the appealing ruggedness of the man before her. She takes a moment to curse herself for taking an inexcusably long time to understand just how exceedingly erotic Jack's body is.

Seeing his skin for the first time makes something in her mind click, and she allows her desire to take full control of her actions. Her fingers push him to guide that he lay against the pile of pillows on the bed. He lays at an incline and eyes her incredulously, not quite sure what she's planning.

As her arms and legs support her body above his, she leans down and places her lips on different parts of his chest. She bares her teeth and sucks on the skin at each spot in hopes of leaving a mark. She’s delighted to find how easy it is to leave lovely bruises, and she expects them to serve as a reminder to all who see that she was there. She wants to strike herself. ‘ _Who else is going to see him like this, after we’ve confessed our emotions_ _?_ ' she scolds herself. It doesn't stop her from experiencing mounting pleasure over littering his chest with red and purple marks, and the fact that he unapologetically releases a deep, sexy moan whenever she bites his skin certainly feeds her enthusiasm.

She works down his muscled chest, excited to have such a large and glorious canvas. When she reaches the hem of his pants, she looks back up at his face, where she meets the blue eyes that watching her softly. While his skin is not flushed she can tell that he is flustered by her treatment.

(Y/N) gives him a small, charming smile. "I need you to take this off," she says as she lightly tugs the garment. She wants to leave more marks on his legs for him to remember her by. In due time, she also wants to ring her lips around the hard member in his pants and provide the indulgence of sucking until he cums down her throat-

Apparently, her desire is transparent. Jack face changes immediately from craving to understanding as he figures out just what her endgame is. "Remove yours first," his gravelly voice retorts; his tone is low but it is by no means a command.

She obliges and lifts herself from his body. With her back turned to the bed, she stands and sensually undresses so that he can stare at her bare legs. She hears his rugged breathing as she reaches to take off her undergarments, exposing her naked ass to him. The moment she turns to face the man again, the pair of sturdy hands grab her and throw her onto the bed.

It takes a short moment to bear her surroundings and figure out that Jack is looming above her, staring down her undressed figure. "I'm sorry," he breathes as his hands clench the sheets on either side of her shoulders. "But I'm supposed to be pleasuring you tonight."

She opens her mouth to protest, but his intense stare wills her to accept his treatment. His eyes descend down her body and his hands reach to hold her legs open, allowing for an easy view of her womanhood. She waits patiently for his penetration, but-

He lowers his head to the intimate area instead. She almost calls out to plead he not subject his perfect face to such a dirty act, but she immediately swallows her words the moment his lips touch her skin. He gently kisses the bundle of nerves tucked away between her legs, and her entire body screams with prodigious thrill.

He is painfully slow against her clitoris, though each movement creates an erogenous tremor. She tries to rock her hips slightly to add to the friction, but his hold on her thighs, although careful not to bruise, is firm.

"Not yet, princess," he purrs, causing her to whimper as he speaks into her folds. "I said I'm treating you well tonight, so you're gonna have to let me do all the work."

She opts against arguing with the man, and instead decides to relax and let him do as he pleases. The pair of lips are slowly giving open mouth kisses to the sensitive skin. His silver tongue is put to use as it licks sensuously at her skin and around her entrance, dripping wet from the excitement. She moans and mumbles as he provides her with warm, wet rapture.

His conscious actions prove how skilled he is as a lover. Only when he hears her breathing become faster and deeper does he increase his speed, and she's thankful for it. The sensation of his mouth and his tongue caressing her, as well as the grasp of his hands on her legs, begins to overpower her senses. Her hand reaches for his head and her fingers run through his hair, clinging softly to him and allowing it to be her reminder: he's here and he’s causing this incredible feeling.

"I'm going to cum,” she calls in pure ecstasy, seeing no point in hiding it from the man. She wants him to see that he is behind her amorous satisfaction.

“Please,” Jack says intensely between his licks. “Cum on my face, (Y/N).”

His mouth continues its work, and the combination of the man’s dirty words and his sinful lips are what bring her subsequent pleasure. With one deep breath, her entire chest tightens as the fervor reaches every inch of her skin. She releases a shrill cry as the releasing tension overpowers her surroundings; She's lightheaded and Jack’s love is to blame. She screams through her orgasm, unable to contain the warmth that's collecting in her chest.

Her partner, understanding that she’s reached her peak, slows his pace again, opting to lick her clean. Even as he’s lapping her ejaculation, it sends dull ardor through her body. The woman tilts her head down to look at the man whose is inches from her crotch.  He smiles up at her with that cocky smile she loves. “Well?” he asks, “How was that?”

She breathes steadily as his hands return to exploring her body. Her voice is low and calm, almost a hum. “Fantastic,” she rumbles. Her hand, still wrapped in his hair, combs his scalp. “And what about you?”

He shakes his head. “Tonight’s all you, remember?” he gently reminds her. “Don’t worry your damn head about me.”

She’s pouting and she doesn’t really care if it seems immature. “But _I_ want you to enjoy this as much as I do,” she whines, noticing how modestly his hands are moving across her body and, even so how sensual she believes it to be.

“Oh?” he asks as he bites just below her belly button, pulling from her throat a delicate whimper. “And what if I told you that for me to feel that good, I’d have to fuck you into this bed so hard and so fast that you wouldn’t walk straight for days?”

Her head is spinning because of the naughty words that pour out of his mouth. “Is that what you want to do with me?” she asks.

He chuckles. “I just want you to feel-”

“That’s not what I asked,” she cuts in with authority. He’s taken aback by her statement, so she uses the opportunity to speak up. “You said you wouldn’t hold out on me; don’t tell me you’re going back on your promise.”

He growls in response. She takes the side of his head and guides him up so that his entire body hangs over hers. She peers over his chest, still impressed by the muscular build and the bruises she’s left. She sees his legs quivering and his crotch – still clothed, to her dismay – containing his pitched erection.  She _knows_ that he wants to take her, and she’s more than happy to provide, but she wants to hear him say the words. “I want you, Jack; _all_ of you. If you want my body,” she challenges, “I can give it to you. All you have to do is ask.”

His eyes reflect a longing they both share. There's a piercing silence during which neither dares to breathe. Finally, his arms snake behind her neck and he leans down to embrace her. His head rests beside her left ear and releases a deep sigh. “I can’t take it,” his words are filled with the need she knows he has. “I want to be inside of you, so badly, but I don't know if I can be gentle. I'm so obsessed with fucking you, I'm worried I'll act hastily and hurt you; the last think I want is to cause you pain on a special night. Please understand my reluctance."

(Y/N) smiles softly upon hearing the man's words. Leave it to Jack to be concerned about providing comfort, even at the expense of his own pleasure. Her left hand carefully pulls his head up and her right is placed on his hip. He loosens his grip around her head as he hovers above her. She stares in his shimmering blue eyes. "I want that, too," she promises. "I know you're worried, but there's no reason to be. I trust you enough to know that you can't hurt me, even if you wanted to." Her lips left a small kiss on the tip of his nose. "I love you, Jack, and I want to show you my love, just as you've shown me."

He hesitates before his hands withdraw from beneath her to grasp her shoulders. “All I want," he slowly responds, "is to cum inside of you, and to hear you calling my name. That’s not too much to ask, is it?” She shakes her head and his lips crash against hers. The kiss is fast and passionate, as though trying to compensate for the period of time they spent talking. She swears that he slowly mouths the words, ‘Thank you,’ against her.

Jack pulls back slowly. He takes off his pants, one leg at a time, and stands completely bare in the low light. His member is just as she had remembered; it’s a gorgeous sight to behold and she is eager to take it all very soon. Her eyes soak in his powerful, undressed legs, long and muscular. She is even excited to see his ass when he turns around; she’d never noticed that he possessed a well-rounded posterior, and she knows she'll remember the toned sight it is for days to come.

God, this man is gorgeous. She can’t believe that she’s so lucky; of all the mercenary jobs in all the world, he happened to worked hers. Of any relationship that could have formed, theirs was romantic and mutual, and she’s damn thankful for it. If it weren’t for fate, they never would have worked together, and she never would have been able to fall in love again with someone so damn supportive, and affectionate, and handsome… She believes that she's become too sentimental. Whether it is because of her orgasm minutes before or not, she doesn’t care. This is the most elated she’s ever felt, and she’s not going to let this moment slip by without appreciating every second.

Jack returns to the bed; one hand is holding onto a small wrapper. She immediately sees it and raises an eyebrow. “A condom?” she asks, careful to ensure her tone is not judgmental.

“It’s better to be safe,” he responds equally careful. That’s classic Jack, making sure to take all precautions necessary. She nods softly and watches him open the packaging and roll the rubber around his member. He breathes lightly from the contact and he shuts his eyes to concentrate on the task at hand. She finds there’s something oddly erotic about him slipping on the condom and trying to conceal the simple stimulation his own hand has on his body. So erotic, in fact, that her own crotch becomes wet again, anticipating the firm penetration to come.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he says as he positions his body above her, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had this sort of intimacy.”

(Y/N) nods. “It’s been a long time for me too. Two years, to be exact,” her lips part as he carefully rubs the tip of his cock against her entrance. “How long has it been for you?” she asks. She doesn’t want to pry, but she’s desperate to know if he ever found companionship during their time apart.

He promptly shoves himself into her warm cunt and snarls. She takes a sharp breath and relishes the fact that she's completely filled by Jack Morrison. To start, he is slow and controlled; he carefully shifts his body so that the dick inside of her can gently stretch her walls. “It’s been two years,” his eyes are closed, trying to concentrate on his meticulous movements. He scoffs and continues, “As if I could find a replacement for the way I feel inside of you.”

Once he believes to have extended her walls well enough, he begins pumping steadily. He is slow and firm, careful not to cause discomfort to the female. After some time, he steadily increases the speed of his rocking, pulling from her a sweet, sensual cry that she knows he lives for.

“Did you think of me while I was gone?” she asks in an effort to hear him admit his dedication to her. She wants to know the depths of his affection, and he certainly offered to show it all to her tonight.

“Yes,” his voice comes out as a low moan that makes her heart flutter. He lifts her right leg into the air, allowing himself deeper penetration, and continues to gain speed. (Y/N) can see why he was worried about causing pain; he's moving so quickly and with such strength, and she know's he's only just getting started. She can tell he's trying his best to keep from fucking her mercilessly, but she silently hopes that he allows himself to let go. The euphoria she has now is overpowering and she believes that it can only continue to improve once he reaches the speed he longs for. “I thought of you every day,” he speaks clearly, despite his panting.

The sound of his voice, his heavy breathing, and the sensation of being fucked wills her to cry loudly. Even so, she not satisfied with his answer, so she pushes him to continue. “You thought of me… Because you wanted to work together again?” Her question sounds innocent, but she knows that there’s enough of a suggestive tone to prompt he say the erotic thing she wants to hear.

His breathing continues at the same pace as the hips that rock forward and backward. At this speed, he is crashing against her core and providing a rough, firm bliss. “No,” his clenched teeth answer, “I thought of _fucking_ you every single day. I was so desperate to have you again that there were some night’s I’d wake up and imagine you were lying next to me.”

His hot breath graces her face. After those words, he reaches his desired tempo and quickly pulls in and out of her. She moans loudly to show she is enjoying his actions. Her frenzy slowly build and his hands firmly grip her - one at her side, one at her breast - as her leg rest against is chest. He turns his head to lick and kiss her ankle, and she gasps and moans at the contact. He moans loudly as if to echo the sound of her voice.

She wants to push him further – he’s so close to giving the acknowledgment she wants to hear. “Did you fuck yourself and imagine I was there?”

“Yes,” he moans, not even hesitating to answer. He's going even faster at that moment, though he had already reached what she believed to be his maximum speed. He’s losing his demeanor but he’s concentrating well enough to keep from getting sloppy as he continues to buck into the woman. “Shit, (Y/N). I know you wanted me to stay away,” he acknowledges, “but it didn’t keep me from longing for you, or from getting the most pleasure pretending I was fucking you’re _tight_ pussy when I was just tugging one out.”

The confession is the single sexiest thing he could have said, and it’s what forces her desire to skyrocket. Her hand shoots to the back of his neck while the other props her body up. “Jack,” she coos, pulling a rural growl from his chest; “I’m here for you,” she moans as he hits that glorious sweet spot inside of her, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know, (Y/N),” he’s closed his eyes again, anticipating the peak that's to come. She understands her own is rising, and pushes herself up to kiss him once more. She can taste her own bitter ejaculation on his face, and at this point she couldn’t give a shit. She’s going to cum on the dick of the man she loves – and who unmistakably loves her in return.

“Jack!” she screams when he hits deep inside of her, and it’s the point where her body releases itself again. She falls back onto the bed and calls his name again and again as her mind spins rapidly. The walls of her vagina reflexively clench around his dick as she orgasms, spurring a loud rumble from his chest.

“Fuck,” she hears him growl under his breath. After a few more powerful thrusts, he pushes himself deep inside of her and lets out a long, loud moan. The hand at her breast reaches to hold her side and he pumps into her firmly a few more times as he cums. His ragged breathing, the result from having finished, fills her ears.

They stay in the position for few minutes, panting and making an effort to lower their heart rates. The couple rides out the intimacy together to the point where it fades from a raging burn to a calm tingle. After some time, he sets her leg down and pulls himself away, walking toward the restroom to throw away the condom shamelessly filled with his semen. She rests and stares at the ceiling as small clouds warp her peripheral vision. She’s in a state of pure relaxation and elation, all thanks to the man in the other room.

When he returns, all she can think to do is wrap her arms around his broad shoulders and pull him into bed. “Jack, thank you! That was fantastic,” she laughs, landing small pecks on his cheek.

He chuckles, and she finds that she loves the sound now more than ever. “I should be saying the same to you.” He lay beside her and pulls her into his arms. She loves how easily she rests in his chest, pleasantly littered with dozens of colorful marks. He kisses her forehead, careful to avoid placing too much pressure on her healed scar.

“I can’t believe it took me so long to decide to do this,” she admits, pulling back only far enough so that she can look up into his eyes; it’s a caring glance he is more than happy to reciprocate.

“To be fair, you were infatuated with that dick Morrison,” he rationalizes, earning a loud cackle from the female. He sheepishly stares down at her; it’s a look she’s never earned from the man. “Sorry if I… said anything I shouldn’t have.”

He doesn't have to dictate that he’s referring to fantasizing about sleeping with her while she was gone. She shakes her head furiously, “No,” she promises as her hands move from his shoulders to the back of his neck, “It was all perfect, I loved every second.”

He raises a brow, “So you’re not upset that I thought about you that way? Even though you clearly wanted to be out of my life?”

His question forces her to acknowledge the fact that there was actually a time when she wanted him to leave her behind. She’s thankful that he’s always been so headstrong, as it kept him from fulfilling her foolish wish. She’s grateful he never found love elsewhere, and that she’s finally able to reciprocate his admiration. “No,” (Y/N) says as one hand travels to cup his cheek. “It shows that you were always devoted, even when I was gone. Hearing you say that was damn sexy.”

He smiles and his grip around her waist tightens. She briefly stops to think over the nature of the question, as it reminds her of a situation she put him in long ago. “Did I… upset you? When I was imagining having sex with Commander Morrison?”

He scoffs, “Well, yeah,” he says, opting against sugar-coating his words. “But I went through with it anyway because I cared about you, and I…” a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “Well, I was desperate. I’d wanted to take you for so long that I was willing to do anything to win you over, even if it meant retrograding to become the asshole I once was.”

“Oh, Jack,” she laments as she reaches to touch her lips to his chin. “I still regret putting you in that position. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s in the past. I was able to move on and forgive,” he sighs. He adjusts one hand so it's holding the back of her head and pulls her face into his chest. “Still sucked, though. That you preferred to sleep with that douche, I mean. The sex was great. But…” He leans in to kiss the top of her head. “What we had tonight, that’s more faithful to what I like. I’m glad we could share that.”

She thinks back to the evening they shared two years ago. She remembers it being erotic, but she can’t seem to recall the exact amount of pleasure she felt upon having her fantasies fulfilled. All she can easily remember is that she hurt her friend, and that’s enough to ruin any mood. She determines that the evening long ago was nothing but a bittersweet victory to her. But tonight… felt perfect. She had slept with a man she’s fallen in love with, who loved her equally and respected her completely. There isn’t a doubt in her mind when she admits to him, “I liked tonight a lot more, too.”

He releases his grip on the back of her head, so she takes the opportunity to lean back and look into his eyes again. “So…” he flashes a cocked smile, “You’ll do this again?”

She rolls her eyes with exaggerated exasperation. “Of course,” she chuckles, as her voice is unable to hide her delight. “I think I’d like to do this with you every night until you stop loving me.”

“Well, that’s never gonna happen,” He rolls over so that he’s directly hovering over her as he starts placing quick kisses on her shoulders, her chest, her face, and finally her lips. Each contact prompts a giggle from her. “You sure about every night, though?” he challenges. “I’ll have to buy condoms in bulk; that’s a lot of rubber to carry from city to city.”

She snaps her attention to his statement, “Yeah, what’s up with that? Maybe next time we should fuck without the condom. That shit’s expensive.”

He laughs at her eagerness. “You’re too old to have a kid,” he jokes, “Plus, we’d be too busy to raise it.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that,” she snickers at the man, “You’re probably firing blanks by this point.”

His immediate response is to poke every inch of her body, earning a hearty laugh from her. She begs him to stop, overpowered by his tickling, but he continues until she’s laughing so hard that she’s hacking. At that point, he opts to shower her with warm kisses as she catches her breath. Afterwards, he rolls back onto the bed and lay on his back, and she rolls over to place her head on his warm chest. They fall asleep in each other's embrace, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

The relationship only grows stronger in the period of a few days, almost as if to make up for time lost. They still share physical contact every moment they have to themselves. Jack doesn’t waste a single opportunity to compliment her, and (Y/N) doesn’t let a day go by without saying that she loves him. They’re a couple of old souls without any intention of getting married, starting a family, or accomplishing any other milestones that should have been done long ago. None of that appeals to the mercenaries; all that matters is that they’re finally, unquestionably happy.

A few hours after sunset one spring evening, however, they realize there’s something more than they both want. They only figure out what that is after a loud signal alerts them of it.

They’re sitting together drinking tea, just as they’ve always done, when the alarm interrupts the deep conversation. She hears it coming from her phone on the table three meters from where they’re cuddling. (Y/N) jumps, startled by the unearthly sound she’s never heard from her device before. She stands quickly to approach the table and silence it before she disturbs the other guests of the motel.

She holds the phone in her hand, staring at the flashing red words on her screen as the noise continues. Other than reading the words again and again, trying to decipher the message before her, she cannot act. Jack turns his head to her, trying to grab her attention. She can hear him speaking, but she can’t draw attention away from the device she's clutching to make out what he’s saying.

“Hey,” his voice booms, and she quickly looks up. “What’s going on?” he asks. His voice is calm, but his face shows that he’s worried by her reaction.

She comes to her senses and silences her phone. She attempts to swallow the lump in her throat before relaying the message. “Someone’s initiated Overwatch Recall.”

There’s a minuscule pause before he stands and walks to her side. He sets his beverage on the table and turns to look at her phone. The message, still flashing red, clearly reads:

_OVERWATCH RECALL: ACTIVE. REPORT, WATCHPOINT: GIBRALTAR (MEDITERRANEAN POST). OPT. NO. 006-850329_

Jack scowls. “Do you think it’s a trap?” he asks slowly, carefully.

It’s been six years since either has received any word from the organization, and both are aware that engaging in Overwatch activity of any kind is illegal according to the United Nations. It could be a ruse to pull old agents out of hiding for whatever nefarious purposes. All the same, there’s an excitement that she contains; there’s a chance that this is very real, and that she could be working alongside her old teammates again.

“It very well may be,” she responds, as she sets her phone on the table. She turns so that she’s looking at the man head-on as she speaks. “As I see it, we could go one of two ways. We could ignore the message; stay a pair of vigilantes, defend the people who need help, and never find out what happened to our team. Or…” she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, “We could go to Gibraltar to find out who flipped the switch. If it’s our old team, we stay and fight for them. If not, we take them down before they can trick anyone else.”

The small smile tugs at his lips. “Sounds risky,” he jokes; it’s obviously nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.

(Y/N) nods. There’s an itch, and she knows that he has it too: the desire to do more than go from city to city to take down criminals. She craves the adventure that she once had beside her teammates, and deep down, she thinks the risk of being caught is worth finding out if she has a chance of being in the fray again.

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her into a tight embrace. His lips reach down to hers to provide a tender, impassioned kiss that she doesn’t hesitate to return. He pulls away and looks down into her shining eyes. “Wherever you go, I’ll go,” he says, though she knows his obvious preference.

 “Oh?” She doesn’t hesitate to tease him. “Is this because you want to spend time with your team again? I guess I can’t compete with your old drinking buddies.”

“Ugh,” he growls as he pulls back from her, annoyed by her response. She laughs and grabs his shoulders to turn him back again and leaves a small peck on his lips. He rolls his eyes in response, “I promised I wouldn’t let you out of my sights again,” he grumbles, “I’ll follow you because I love you.”

She smiles at the small victory. “I know,” she responds and turns to pack her belongings.

He grumbles, clearly exasperated by her behavior. “If you already know, what’s the point in making me say it?”

She chortles, turning back and slinging her packed bag over her shoulder, “Because,” she leans towards him again, “I love hearing you say it.”

He grabs her shoulders and kisses her deeply, feverishly. Even after all this time, the contact makes her heart race and sends a sensation through her body that's similar to floating. His hands quickly move to hold more of her body and pull her deeper into his embrace. She drops her bag in favor of wrapping herself around his waist. She notices his smile atop her lips when her bag falls to the ground with a loud thud.

He pulls away immediately and flashes that smirk she loves. “You dropped something,” he mocks with a small chuckle to his voice.

She pulls back and flashes a sincere smile. “Eat shit,” she articulates each word, forcing his laugh to erupt from his chest.

He pecks her on the forehead, on the perfect scar that serves as a reminder of his unyielding affection towards her. He turns to pack his bag, completing the task in record time. “Well, what’s the holdup?” he asks, as he turns back with his bag in one hand and his pulse rifle in the other. “We’ve got an organization to meet with.”

She takes his mask from where it’s been sitting on the table and slides it onto his face. She kisses it where she ought to be kissing his cheek, sounding a loud smack as her lips leave the surface. “After you, Soldier. Gibraltar awaits.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading!
> 
> If you have a prompt suggestion you'd like me to fill, you can submit it on my tumblr:  
> starpants.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope to write more Overwatch pieces, but I'd also like to branch out and write more for other fandoms as well. I would appreciate it if you kept an eye out for other works of mine in the future!


	5. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! I've added one more chapter to explore the relationship of the characters. (This is purely self indulgent hehe). This chapter is longer than the others, sorry about that! Please enjoy this unexpected update!

Jack Morrison is dead.

The streets practically murmur with uncertainty the day that Overwatch’s Swiss Headquarters fell. The organization has crumbled alongside its proud leader, a fate which no individual thought possible. People grieve for the loss of a great man, though they know not of what destruction came because of his selfish desire to support a group that’s lost its cause.

Soldier: 76 doesn’t mourn the fallen commander. He walks the streets at night and releases a malcontent sigh whenever he turns a corner and sees the man’s face plastered against a wall, shining and the perfect poster boy. That’s all he ever was: a figurehead, meant to please the public and distract from the decay that festered within.

Jack Morrison is dead, but as far as Soldier: 76 is concerned, he was never really alive.

* * *

He’s growling in an alleyway and staring down at the woman standing before him. The damp humidity causes Soldier: 76 to sweat beneath his mask, but he’s too well trained of a soldier to let it bother him. Rather, he focuses his attention on the mercenary at least half a meter shorter than he. Despite the difference in height, she stares back aggressively, as if offended by the man’s incredulous, albeit hidden, glance.

“This is my job,” he says roughly. “Stay out of my way.”

“ _You’re_ job?” she asks, insulted by the man’s statement. “I was actually _hired_ to take these criminals in, and you’re literally in _my_ way. Stand down, and let me get my work done.”

He bores into her, though he knows that all she can see when she returns his glare is a glowing red. “You must be mistaken,” he snarls, “ _I_ was hired for this job. Run home before you get hurt.” Soldier: 76’s altruistic nature shines through his gruff shell, though he doubts the female can distinguish the kindness in his words.

Unsurprisingly, she does not. “That’s bullshit!” she almost yells. For a woman her age, she’s certainly articulate and absolutely crass, neither of which the gentleman is impressed by. In retaliation, the stranger pulls out her phone, flips it open, and dials quickly. “I’m calling my employer right now, so he can explain to you that this is _my_ gig.”

She turns her attention away and paces out of his range. From the length, he can still hear her end of the conversation: “Yes… I understand, I’m in position to move, but I’m being held back… Some geezer in a mask… WHAT?” She blurts out and looks back at the man. She turns her attention back to the phone and lowers her voice again, “But I can do this on my own... You realize I’m not liable if he gets hurt, right? And about the commission… Right… Right… I copy… Right.”

She flips her phone shut and shoots her gaze back at the red visor, noticeably livid. “The bastard hired both of us for the same job,” she growls. “He says it’s because the guys he’s trying to bring in are a slippery pair, but I think he was just hedging his bets to make sure someone would be able to catch ‘em, just in case the other croaked.”

He stares at her, realizing the danger of the job; the last thing he’d want is to lose another soldier on the battlefield, even if they’ve only just met and got off on the wrong foot. “I can do this on my own,” his voice is serious, trying to reach an understanding with the woman.

“I’m sure you can just as well as I, however…” she frowns. “He seems convinced that they’re not an easy pair to fight. It might be best if we… Work together. Make a plan.” The man opens his mouth to respond, but she continues before he can interrupt, “I’m not a fan of it, but I need the money and this is the first gig I’ve gotten in a while, so… I’m not backing out. Just, let’s not make this harder than it has to be, okay?”

“Look, kid. Just go home,” he says the words calmly, though he may as well be pleading with the woman. “There’s other opportunities to make money is a city as big as this one. If we fight here, you might have to take someone’s life; you don’t want that kind of responsibility on your hands.”

She saunters over to the man and aggressively jabs a finger against his chest. “First of all,” she grinds her teeth. “I’m not a child, so _don’t_ patronize me. Second, this isn’t the first time I’ve had this sort of job, so don’t lecture me on the responsibilities it entails. I know how to take a life and I _won’t_ hesitate to take yours if you stand in my way.”

The female’s eyes blaze as she stares into the visor. Soldier: 76 realizes as he stares back that she looks familiar, though he can’t say why that is. Without placing too much thought into it, he decides against challenging her and accepts the arrangement. “Fine,” he grumbles. “We’ll work together on this mission, but don’t think I’ll be happy about it.”

“I’m sure you won’t be,” she snaps back.

* * *

There are bullets whizzing from two directions, flying so fast that Soldier: 76 has a hard time figuring out exactly where they’re coming from. The skill of these men is note-worthy, and their belligerent fighting makes the mercenary actually question how this battle can be won.

Thankfully, he has support by his side that is more than he could ever ask for. The stranger is at his back the entire fight, firing same as he. With every action he makes, she compliments it with a follow-up attack, and he learns to provide the same for her. Soldier: 76 can see that she’s well trained in combat and wonders where on earth she learned to fight like such an efficient soldier.

A bullet of his runs through the leg of one man and the convict collapses to the ground. She fires towards the second man and incapacitates him in the same way. The criminals struggle, but without a method of escape, they’ve realized that this is defeat. 

They bind the men and escort them back to their contact, a private investigator for this city’s police, to collect the funds. They are professional towards the official, who is pleasantly surprised to see both still standing. The woman receives an envelope containing the payment for their work and is thanked for the service. As the investigator turns to leave, she takes her cut of the commission and hands the envelope with the remainder to the man.

“Not bad,” Soldier: 76 remarks as he takes the packet. The cash is half the total sum he was offered, but for some reason he doesn’t actually mind.

 She pockets her share, reloads her gun, and places the weapon back in her holster before turning back. He can tell that she’s equally impressed as he is by their capabilities. “We actually make a pretty good team.”

“I agree,” he states. Never in his career had he finished in such record time, and as a man who values quality and efficiency he is completely satisfied by the result of this mission. He pockets his own pay and looks back down the path they’d taken. “Listen,” he starts without turning to face the woman, “I’m headed towards Arlington for another gig I have lined up. You got any plans?”

She can’t hide a small smirk. “So you admit you need my help?”

He growls and walks away, calling over his shoulder, “If you’re going to be this difficult, you can forget I said anything.”

She laughs quietly and races to his side. “No, I’m just teasing. I’ll follow you.”

He offers a dismissive grunt as a reply and continues. She doesn’t know whether or not it’s his way of inviting her to follow, but she decided to hedge her bets and chase the man anyway. He doesn’t object.

 

A breeze follows as they exit the city by foot. Each soldier carries a meager bag filled with all the belongings they have and could ever need. “What should I call you?” she asks to break the silence as they steadily march against the pavement.

“Call me Soldier: 76,” he responds simply.

“Cool name,” she smirks. “Mine’s (Y/N).”

He turns, surprised by her response. “You don’t have an alias to go by?”

She shrugs, “What’s the point?” she asks. “If someone knows my name, they know my name. It’s not going to keep me alive longer if I keep it a secret.”

He pauses, and then grunts in reply. The soldier recognizes that not every mercenary has a past to hide from, so it shouldn’t shock him that the female doesn’t waste time trying to protect her identity. Soldier: 76 wracks his brain as the silence looms over the two. '( _Y/N),'_ he thinks over the name. He _knows_ he’s heard it somewhere before, but for the life of him he can’t seem to remember where.

 

Their backs are to Arlington as the sun sets. They’ve finished their job and decided to continue moving to the next city overnight, where Soldier: 76 has another task lined up. There’s an eerie silence between the mercenaries, and it only becomes more foreboding as the dark of the night and the sounds of nature surround them.

Earlier in the day, something in the man’s mind clicked, and he realized why (Y/N) is so vaguely familiar. The woman, trained exceptionally well in combat and carrying a recognizable name and face, _has_ to have been an Overwatch Agent. Soldier: 76 remembers seeing the name over and over in positive reports, as well as seeing her face in an ocean of soldiers, all staring and vowing to serve Jack Morrison’s cause.

Soldier: 76, against his better judgment, speaks up for the first time since leaving the city. “You were an Overwatch agent, weren’t you?”

She stops walking, though he continues moving without realizing it for a few seconds. Once he notices that she’s no longer by his side, he stops as well without turning back. “Yeah,” (Y/N) answers simply in a quiet voice. She’s suddenly behind him again, and there’s something blunt forcefully jabbing into the back of his head. “How did you find that out?”

The man senses the infallible gun aimed at the back of his head. He works to diffuse the situation before there are any casualties – likely his own. “I can’t say for sure,” he answers calmly, as if his life _didn’t_ depend on his answer. “The only reason I have is that you’re a skilled fighter.”

There’s a quick cock of the gun and his body stiffens ever so slightly. “Did you know,” she speaks in a hushed, rough tone, “that Overwatch has been disbanded? All of its members are in hiding now; apparently there are groups that are looking to take down ex-agents.” She reaches closer to his ear, the gun in her hand still pointed at the back of his head. “That means anyone anywhere could take me in and collect a bounty for my head. Just because we’ve worked a couple of gigs together, doesn’t mean I entirely trust you won’t do the same.” She pauses to gauge his response – nothing but steady breathing – before speaking again. “I’ll do _whatever it takes_ to stay alive and keep fighting. Do you understand?”

Soldier is unfazed by her threat and speaks to calm her nerves. “You can trust me,” he speaks the truth. “I actually used to be an outspoken supporter of Overwatch up until its fall.”

She hesitates. The gun pulls away from his head and she rotates around to see him. The barrel is still aimed at his forehead, just above his mask. “Can you prove that?”

He shakes his head. “No. But you can trust that I have no reason to hurt you.”

(Y/N) stares into the mask, perhaps trying to prove whether or not he’s lying. After the pause, she finally sighs and returns her gun to its holster. “Alright, I believe you,” she looks back with a strange, stinging sadness in her eyes. “But I’m not going to let my guard down around you.”

He nods. He accepts her hesitance and decides to do all he can to earn her trust.

* * *

The sounds of lively banter fill the night air, though the rest of the town doesn’t even seem to notice. Solder: 76 and (Y/N) are waiting on the roof of an apartment complex for their next target, as part of their most recent task. Over the last year of working together, they’ve learned to be more comfortable with one another on the job, and find that spending time in friendly conversation is preferable to sitting in silence.

“If you were such a lively supporter of Overwatch,” (Y/N) asks almost out of the blue, “why didn’t you ever enlist?”

“They wouldn’t let me keep the mask,” He’s deadpan, and she has to contain a loud chortle.

“That’s a shame,” she smiles. “They really missed out on having such a dependable member.”

She knows his response is a joke, and he knows that her belief is not entirely sincere. Even so, he can’t help but feel a flush from behind his visor as a result of her praise.

* * *

“Explain this!”

He’s bellowing at (Y/N) as she sits on a park bench and sweats heavily. This is a level of exhaustion he knows is uncommon for the mercenary. She had been limping and breathing unevenly for the past half hour, up to the point where she'd collapsed on the park bench without notifying her partner. He’d since pulled the loose leg of her pants up and the cause of her discomfort is there for him to see; a long, blood-crusted scar covers the skin, slightly discolored with bruises. Soldier: 76 can tell that it is recent and hasn’t been cleaned properly.

She huffs in response. “It’s just a cut. Don’t you _dare_ make this out to be more than it is.”

Soldier: 76 stands and paces a few steps before turning back to the weary woman. “Why didn’t you speak up about it?”

“It’s not a big deal! I was going to clean it once we’ve stopped for the night,” she’s yelling back at him. His hands reach to inspect the skin but she slaps him away. “Stop it! You’re overreacting!”

He crosses his arms once she’s rejected his attentiveness. “We could have stopped at any time if you’d said something.” He stops, abruptly realizing something. “How often do you try to walk off your injuries?”

She looks away to hide a guilty glance. “Does it matter? I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

He’s growling. He can’t stand that she’s so stubborn, and now of all times. “Even if you _are_ fine now, which I doubt based on how you’re acting, what if you get it infected? What if you push yourself so hard that you’re hurt for good?” She doesn’t respond, still looking away and breathing raggedly. He waves his arms and yells at the woman, “Damn it, (Y/N), why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?!”

“Shut up!” she shouts and turns to stare at the man again. “Like I need your pity, I already have a hard enough time getting you to seeing me as your equal.”

He’s staggered by her response, and her actions make sense. She cares so much about being seen as a contributing member to the team that she does whatever she can to hold the image of health and strength. “Is that what this is about?” He lowers his tone and kneels in front of where she sits. “Did you actually believe I’d think of you as weak for getting hurt?”

She doesn’t speak up, rather turning to avoid staring at the man before her. Her lack of response confirms his assumption. Soldier: 76 sighs and stands to sit on the bench, opposite to where her head is tilted. “Look,” he tries to offer comfort, but he’s never been good with these sorts of conversations. “I don’t think of you as weak, okay? You got hurt, it happens to all of us.”

“It doesn’t happen to you,” she whispers quietly, head still turned in the opposite direction.

“That’s because…” His sentence tampers off because he can’t tell her the truth. He can’t admit that he had been injected with serums that made him into a super soldier, a killing machine that can take numerous hits before slowing down. He wants to be honest with her, to make her understand that he was literally built differently and capable of different things, but he finds he can’t do it. Not now, anyway

“That’s irrelevant,” he concludes after a short pause. “If it’s that big of a deal for you, don’t think of telling me you’re hurt as a sign of weakness. Treat it like a heads up, so that we can keep our team in good shape. Because,” he sighs slowly, “If you’re hurt, I’m as good as hurt too. Understand?”

(Y/N) carefully turns back and looks at him. Her features are sad, but there is a small shine in her eyes; his words have a positive effect and she’s grateful for his perspective. “… I understand,” she replies slowly, her breathing finally even again. “From now on, I’ll tell you when I’m hurt… For the sake of our team.”

Soldier: 76 grunts in reply. “Can you walk a little further?” he asks as he stands. He turns back and offers a hand to lift herself with. “If we backtrack ten minutes, we can go to a motel we passed and stay for the night.”

She nods. “I think so,” she states as she grasps his hand with her own. He pulls her up gently, and they start walking back the way they came. After a few minutes though, she stops and tries to catch her breath.

“Soldier, can we take a break?” she calls ahead.

The man turns back to see (Y/N) leaning against a lamppost three meters back. She looks just as clammy and miserable as she had on the bench minutes ago. At this rate, it'll be sunrise before they reach their destination.

“No,” the man replies curtly. He walks back to her side and, with no effort at all, lifts her into his arms. One hand extends across her back and under her arms, while the other holds her legs, careful to avoid the open wound and further aggravating its condition. She yelps and complains, nevertheless he ignores her demands to be released as he follows the path they’d come from. She quickly understands that she isn’t going to be let free from his grasp, so she accepts her fate and pouts into his jacket.

Once they arrive at the lodging, Soldier: 76 rents two rooms for the night and carries (Y/N) to her own unit. The receptionist offers an inquisitive look at the sweat-clad woman and the masked man carrying her, but decides against questioning the paying guests.

Soldier: 76 unlocks the motel room door and gently lowers the woman on her bed. “Can you patch yourself?” he asks as she lifts her body to sit on the side.

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” she verifies as she slowly stands, testing to make sure her body could handle the movement.

“Okay,” he nods, “I’ll leave you to it then.” He turns to exit, but is stopped by her stammering voice.

“Soldier,” she says quietly. He stops at the doorway and glances over his shoulder. “Um… Thank you,” is all she says, but it’s all the gratitude than he could ever ask for.

Soldier: 76 grunts in reply and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. Once he enters his motel room across the hallway, he removes his mask and releases a long sigh. He lies in bed and stares at the ceiling, metal still firmly grasped in his hand. Holding (Y/N) was the most intimate contact he’s had in a long time, and he decides, after much consideration, that he really likes the way she feels against his chest.

* * *

They haven’t rested properly for days due to a recently completed job, so finishing it after a week of attentive work makes the slow evening feel as refreshing as the first day of spring. Soldier: 76 has invited his partner to the quiet motel room for equipment cleaning - it's the first time they've been able to do so since taking on the task. This isn’t the first occasion they’ve spent time alone in private quarters, so he thinks nothing of it. The mercenary didn’t expect (Y/N) to fall asleep on the couch halfway through polishing her handgun, though. He clicks his tongue, teasingly annoyed by her lack of discipline. He pulls the weapon from her hands and lays it on the coffee table as she snores quietly, choosing to finish his buffing rather than immediately rousing her. She deserves this moment of rest, after all.

At first, he pays no mind to the snoozing figure lying on the couch he’s leaning against. Once the mercenary finishes his work, he stands and carries the rifle to the dining table, where it’s set down carefully. He walks back to figure out what to do with the snoring woman. “Hey,” he calls and shakes her shoulder. His movements start slowly, but become rougher in an attempt to awaken her. “Rise and shine, princess,” he teases with fast shaking. No matter what, she does not stir.

Soldier: 76 pauses for a moment and sighs, realizing that she won’t be up any time soon. He kneels before her again and tries shaking her once more, with no luck. She snores steadily through her nose and her mouth. He absentmindedly looks her over and actually smirks; he’s surprised she’s tolerable when she’s not speaking at all. She isn’t a sore sight, either.

Even through her loose outfit he can tell that she is lean and muscular, the result of working years in this field. He notices her calloused hands and nimble fingers, both signs of dedication to using a weapon. His head turns to inspect her face. Her lashes are long and delicate, borderline gorgeous. Dark circles run below her eyes to show just how weary this line of work has made her, and he respects her for it. He looks at her lips. They’re smooth, voluptuous, and flawless. He’s never seen a pair of lips so perfect in his life.

They look soft. They look warm. They look like they’d fit comfortably around his dick.

His mind halts suddenly at the obscene thought. _‘What the hell am I thinking?’_ he asks himself. It’s too late to take it back, though. He can’t tear his eyes away, even though he knows he needs to in order to clear his head. He realizes in horror that an erection has tented his pants at the mere thought of her mouth and all that she could do with it.

He _knows_ that the proper thing to do is to step away and let himself calm down, but god _damn_ it’s been such a long time since he’s last felt pleasure, and good stimulation has been very difficult to come by. His thoughts cloud as he hastily decides to indulge himself.

Soldier: 76 gently pulls the zipper of his pants to release the stiff member, and he’s pissed that it’s completely hard already. He breathes sluggishly as he removes the glove on his right hand, staring down at her as if waiting for her to wake up. He tugs slowly at the skin and stares at her plush lips. He pretends that (Y/N) is enveloping his throbbing dick, rather than his clenched hand.

The speed of his pumping steadily increases. When he finds it hard to breathe through the metal, he promptly removes his mask. He frantically hopes that she doesn’t wake up to see this sorry sight: her partner, without his mask on, looming over her and jacking off. He deserves such sick retribution, especially after holding inappropriate thoughts and acting on them. Heated and flustered, he continues to stare at her face as he rubs himself and moans in a muffled voice. The thrill of knowing that she could wake up at any moment and see how much of a perverted old man he really gets him off.

The female moans quietly and it makes him release a needy groan. Soldier: 76 is startled by her action but still cannot come to his senses and stop. She says something jumbled in her sleep; he can’t make out exactly what she says, but the words sound so close to his true name – _“Jack”_ – that he cannot hold back any longer.

With a low growl he ejaculates onto the side of the couch, still looming over her sleeping figure. The warmth he feels in his chest infects his mind and let his thoughts swim aimlessly as he rides out the orgasm. His low panting moves at the same beat of his raging heart. He feels amazing now that he’s cum, so much so that he’s forgotten what a tactless person he is, if only for a moment.

Soldier: 76 allows himself a few minutes to recuperate. He stares at the sticky white substance that’s tacky against the fabric of the furniture and curses softly under his breath. The flaccid penis is tucked into his pants when he walks to grab some napkins, hoping to clear away the evidence. Once he finishes wiping the substance, the man walks back to his bed without even bothering to try waking his partner again. He’s too ashamed to look her in the face after what he’s done.

* * *

“Soldier, are you mad at me,” she asks. There’s a hint of worry in her voice.

He sighs, but continues to stare straight ahead. “Why would I be?”

She only shrugs and stares in the same direction as the man, towards the building they are staking out. “I don’t know,” she admits, “but you’ve been acting really distant for the last few days.” She suddenly perks and stares back at the man, “Are you upset that I fell asleep in your room?” She pauses, and he doesn’t answer. “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to impose-”

He shakes his head and she stops speaking, waiting for his explanation. “I wouldn’t get mad over something so silly. I’m not upset with you, I promise.”

He’s not lying; he could never be mad at (Y/N). Honestly, the only person he can be mad at is himself. He’s mad that he was dishonorable enough to indulge at the expense of his business partner without her knowledge. He feels especially dirty that he can’t come clean to her about it without compromising their professional relationship. He wishes he could say he didn’t know what came over him, but that wouldn't be the truth.

Soldier: 76 isn’t sure when he actually fell in love with (Y/N), but he’s realized in that short amount of time that the feelings he has towards the woman are more than fondness towards a comrade.

She speaks up, breaking him from his thoughts, “I understand if you don’t want to talk about whatever is making you upset, but just keep in mind that you don’t have to go at it alone. I’m here to support you, no matter what… That’s what friends are for.”

He turns to her once she finishes the statement. “You consider me a friend?” he asks quietly, almost in disbelief.

She shrugs, her eyes still glued to the building ahead. “Of course,” she replies. “I’d be a shitty person if I didn’t feel that way after all that we’ve been through.”

He smirks beneath the mask. “So you finally trust me?”

She scoffs, still staring at the building ahead. Her response could very easily be snarky and treated like a joke, but she decides that sincerity is the best route. “I do,” she answers. “And I hope you trust me as well.”

He slowly turns back and offers a dismissive grunt. She knows by now that it’s his own way of providing confirmation, but what she doesn’t know is that he’s resolving to atone for his actions. At that moment, in the dead of night in a city they’d never learn to love, he promises to make a positive change; to spend more time with her, provide the security that she deserves, and make her feel more comfortable in this gruesome job she’s been forced to work. He wants her to be happy, but he also wants to be the source of her happiness.

In due time, he wants to ease her into the idea of being more than friends.

* * *

Her hands are pinned to either side of her head and his body looms over her own. Even in such a compromising situation, she still does not show her surprise. It pisses the hell out of him that he can’t read her at all, even without a mask to hide her features.

“So…” she nonchalantly speaks up, “No tea then?”

Soldier: 76’s blood is pumping in his ears, and he speaks without thinking, “I imagine that you would need to turn on the lights to prepare tea.”

She sighs, and the rest of their conversation is a blur. Dorado is hot as hell in the middle of summer, so it’s easy to blame the heat for his careless actions. He _knows_ that he made a mistake seeing (Y/N) this late at night and now it’s easy for him to see why. Pinning her figure to the bed awakens a primal need he has, a feral desire to take her and make her his woman. It’s something he’s been trying to repress for a while, but being in this position now is making that lust too painful to bear.

He excuses himself from her motel room and goes back to his own. It’s under the guise that he is going to retrieve his mask and protect his identity, but his heavy breathing and pitched pants scream otherwise.

“Fuck.” The soldier says it under his breath, completely exasperated by his knee-jerk reaction to being so close to (Y/N). He tries to calm himself, but when the man closes his eyes, all he can see is _her,_ pinned beneath him with hair splayed beneath her head and gorgeous lips held firm, completely capable of hiding any emotion. He so desperately wants to wipe that look off her face and watch as she melts and calls his name.

He leans against the wall and pulls the erection out of his pants. His ragged breathing fills the room as his fingertips wrap around the skin and rapidly pump. He wants to be inside of her, to hear her moan, see her drop the act of indifference, and call out from pleasure. But here, now, the image of having her lying below him is all that he has, and it’s enough to make him shutter.

He quietly calls out her name as he reaches his peak, and with a loud moan he shoots cum aimlessly in front of him. He groans as flecks of light fill his field of vision, completely satisfied by the orgasm that follows. Once the ecstasy fades, though, he’s left with a messy floor and a head full of shame.

He curses and reaches for a towel to clean the area. Once he’s done, he dons his mask and leaves to return to her room as though nothing had happened.

* * *

“He’s gone,” a low, pitiful voice cracks. “He died, and with him so did my family and a great organization.

Soldier: 76 doesn’t speak up, mostly because he isn’t sure what to say. He needed to know if she was aware of the truth: that Jack Morrison is alive, and that he’s been watching over and working alongside her. He didn’t expect his partner – skilled in carrying an apathetic air – to cry upon hearing his words.

The mercenary sets his hot tea on the table beside him and walks to kneel in front of her. Her eyes are blurred by the tears, so thankfully he doesn’t have to worry about his identity being compromised, but at this point he couldn’t give a shit. He just wants her to be free of her anguish, and whether or not he wore the mask to help her is beside the point. He pulls (Y/N) into his shoulder slowly and lets her cry into him. He rubs small circles into her back and encourages her to let it out. He understands that her sadness is the result of his desire for Jack Morrison to fall of the face of the Earth. He wants to make sure she doesn’t feel like she has to shoulder sadness by herself; he only wishes he knew sooner, so that at any point in the past three years he could provide the comfort she’s long been denied.

Once her tears have run its course and she dries her eyes against his shirt, he turns and whispers into her ear, “(Y/N) … Close your eyes. Please.” She nods to confirm, and he pushes her body gently off of his torso. He doesn’t take a moment to think through the repercussions of the following action; he needs her to understand that she’s not alone, and that he wants to be the one to support her. One hand covers her eyes, and the other holds the back of her neck just as he carefully pulls her forward and catches her lips.

He moves deliberately against the smooth skin as a warmth pools in his chest. His heart flutters at the contact, and it only beats faster when he realizes she’s kissing him back at the same tempo. Her lips are just as perfect as he had imagined, and now he knows nothing can replace the real thing.

He pulls away and she retracts her arms (when had she wrapped them around his neck?). Soldier: 76 hesitates before speaking again, realizing that he doesn’t know what will change as a result of his actions. He resolves that, more than anything, he wants to make his partner happy, and if knowing that her old commander is still alive will end her distraught, then it’s something he’s willing to do. For her, and her alone.

He urges her to open her eyes, and she does. Tears pool in the corners of her lids when she sees the old man before her without his disguise. She smiles to hide her shock. “But you died,” is all that she can manage through a cracked voice.

He offers a cocky smile and takes her hands from her lap. He kisses the knuckles lightly and offers some bullshit excuse that he’s too old to die. He’s sincere when he reveals to her his honest feelings: “I’m glad I didn’t, otherwise I would have never been able to work alongside you.”

She leans forward to kiss him again. Her lips curve into a small smile against his while moving slowly and with need. Every ounce of his body burns with the bliss he's feeling, all because (Y/N) is sharing this moment with him. She pulls away and falls asleep in his arms immediately following. He groans and brings her back to her bed, on which they both lay. His gaze traces over her figure, snoring lightly, just before pulling her into his chest and letting himself fall asleep with her in his arms.

Their interaction this evening wasn’t truly a confession, but now he has the means to be completely honest with (Y/N), and it’s more than he could have hoped.

* * *

Soldier: 76 stares at the letter he's found on the dining table. He reads the message over and over, written in a script he attributes to only one person. He’s trying to decipher the words on the page and find any hidden meaning different from what’s actually written. He can’t fool himself, though. There is no secret message written between the lines. (Y/N) is gone.

He’s devastated by this truth, though he doesn’t waste a moment to pack his bag and leave the pricey hotel. For hours, he wanders the streets of London aimlessly, almost in hopes of running into her and pleading with her to stay. The mercenary realizes how unlikely it is for such a thing to happen, but still a sliver of hope remains. 

He _knew_ she was acting distant for the past few months, and only last night had he deduced the reason why: she had long ago fallen in love with Jack Morrison, Commander of Overwatch. Though the night they shared was intimate and all that he had ever hoped for, it was a lie perpetuated by her desire to sleep with her previous commander. It only serves as further proof that Morrison died in Switzerland, and that Soldier: 76 is simply the husk left behind. He was upset by the revelation, but honestly it’s something that could be worked out through a conversation. Now, he won’t ever have that opportunity.

Jack Morrison isn’t truly dead, but he feels like he may as well be.

* * *

Soldier: 76 has since resolved to search for any clues regarding the fall of Overwatch. It’s a daunting task, but it’s something he can easily give all of his attention to. Even after dedicating months to the cause, however, he hasn’t gotten any leads, and it provides a new stressor in his life. After spending an entire night searching through restricted archives and turning up with nothing, he returns to his motel room weary. He rests on the bed in a strange limbo between awake and asleep when his mind can easily play tricks on him.

“Jack,” he hears _her_ voice from behind where he lays on his side. “Jack, you look so tense. Let me help you relax.”

The man doesn’t speak at first. He knows this isn’t real, that it’s just his overactive imagination bringing his desires to the forefront of his mind. He knows that (Y/N) is gone and has no intention of ever returning. Still, his cock twitches against the elastic of his sweatpants and he realizes his need. He knows that this feeling will not go away on its own, so he elects to use his phantom to his advantage.

He reaches to grasp the dick from inside his pants, shuttering quietly at the contact. “Jack, your cock is so big,” the voice in his head sings praise. “God, it feels so good against my hand.” He pumps slowly, imagining it’s her fingers wrapped around his member rather than his own.

He’s breathing lightly, thinking about her body and how warm it always felt against his skin. “(Y/N),” he moans out of need, “(Y/N), god I wish you were here.”

“I _am_ here,” the voice taunts. It doesn’t have the sing-song tone it possessed a minute ago. Instead it sounds pointed and slightly cruel, as if drawing attention to the fact that he’s making this all up.

“No you’re not,” he snarls and rolls over onto his knees, one hand supporting his torso and the other pumping his cock. He can practically see her beneath him, hair spread out under her head, a taunting smile covering her lips, challenging him to do what he wants with her body.

“Jack, fuck me,” the hallucination calls out. He knows it’s not possible, but damn, he wants to, so badly. He pumps his skin quickly, pretending that his hand is gone, that he’s bucking into her tight, warm pussy.

He moans as his hips rock faster. He hears her singing praise as his pleasure builds. “Oh, Jack! You feel so good inside of my pussy. Oh, I love it when you hit right there. Jack, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, right there.” The voice becomes loud screams that build at the same tempo as the man’s raging heartbeat.

“Say you love me,” Jack calls out urgently. He wants to hear her voice say it, even if it’s not the real thing. “Please, (Y/N) just tell me that you love me.”

“Why lie, though?” the delusion suddenly stops releasing moans of pleasure, transforming back to a low, cruel tone. “The only one I’ve ever loved is Commander Morrison. You’re just the shell of the man, incapable of protecting anyone anymore.”

“No!” Jack yells out, but it’s too late; he’s already releasing himself all over the bed from the coarse stimulation. His hand continues to pump even after his member turns flaccid, hoping to take it all back and try again.

The vision he had is gone. He lets himself fall asleep, not even caring that the sticky semen on the white sheets needs to be cleaned. He’s gotten his finish, but he doesn’t feel relieved. Not in the slightest.

* * *

“Did you hear?” a voice at the end of the alleyway speaks up. The mercenary ducks behind a doorway and looms patiently, waiting for the conversation to pass. “A vigilante recovered those abducted children in Egypt."

“Really?” as second voice speaks up, “But it’s been an issue for so long! Who could have gotten it done?”

“From what I’ve heard, it's by a vigilante who will do the jobs that no one else will.”

“Wow, they any good?”

“Beats me! I heard a rumor that she’s a fallen Overwatch soldier.”

“Get out! Then she _has_ to be good at her job!”

“Like I said, I’ve got no idea. It would be nice-”

The dialogue fades as they continue past and Soldier: 76 is left alone in the alley way again. Though the topic of conversation was vague, he knows immediately who the vigilante is, and he knows where she is now. This could be his opportunity to reunite and finally mend their friendship.

He doesn’t waste a moment. After collecting his belongings, he takes the next train out of town to Cairo, from which he will ride to the small town outside the Temple of Anubis. As far as he knows, this is the only opportunity he will have to see her again, and he won’t it slide like sand through his fingers.

* * *

Soldier: 76 arrives in town too late, but through conversation with some of the locals he learns more about the vigilante that had passed through. She was skilled in combat and brave. No one was sure of her origins, but all held one account the same: the moment she came to town, she did her work and vanished again. She didn’t collect a reward before leaving.

As he walks through the town, he easily notices the positive energy emanating from every individual. It's touching to see parents reunited with their children, the good that has come at the hands of this mercenary. _His_ mercenary, no doubt.

One account shares a rumor of another job the woman showed interest in – to disband a group of violent gang members in a town on the border of Libya. He’s so close, so he thinks it’s worth the trip to see if this mercenary described is the one he’s searching for. He leaves quickly, hoping that he might actually make before she leaves again.

* * *

 

Soldier: 76 has been following the mysterious vigilante's trail for at least the last year and a half. The process is simple: he hears a rumor, he follows the rumor, he misses her by a hair, and he moves on. The next place he goes always depends on the rumors he hears from the townspeople. 

He’s since figured out that she’s moving in a relatively general path, and he guessed the next target she will strike. It’s a big job – taking in three convicts dead or alive. On paper, it seems simple enough, but it’s a task that’s been left open for so long, likely due to the difficulty. His theory was confirmed when he contacted the tasks's employer, who claimed that the position had already been filled by another vigilante. "If she fails," he'd said over the phone, "You're welcome to give it a shot."

He had made the call two days ago. Now, the mercenary walks quietly down the streets in the dead of night in an alien city. He’s reached his destination and he knows that the next step should be to find the men; find the criminals and his vigilante would be close behind. The search is the hardest part, especially in a city as large as this one.

“Over here,” he hears voice yell a few blocks away. Soldier: 76 turns his head in the direction of the barking. “The bitch’s hiding in this alley!”

His breath catches slightly. He’s standing on a rooftop, so there’s no way of seeing who’s shouting, but the situation is all to familiar. There’s someone below in danger, and he has to do all that he can to offer protection. He runs to the other side of the building, trying his best to follow the direction the voice boomed from a moment before. He’s startled when he hears the familiar sound of bullets being shot.

Soldier: 76 follows the noise and sees the action unfolding in the alleyway directly below him. A woman below is pointing a handgun down the alley, where three large men are defending themselves. From this height, he can see a long, deep scar running across the female’s forehead, caked with dried blood. Even from this height, he recognizes the figure immediately.

There stands (Y/N), with all the ferocity he attributes to her very being. His heart pounds in his ears as he realizes that she’s there, just below him, and she’s alive. She’s still fighting, but she’s alive. His search is finally over.

The feeling of relief fades when he watches her dig her heels into the ground and sprint back into the same direction of the men pursuing her. _‘Shit!’_ is all that the man thinks, but he acts quickly. Without hesitating, he points his pulse rifle just between where the two groups are charging and releases three helix rockets, hoping to stop both parties in their tracks.

There is a loud explosion that knocks up dirt and debris. Without waiting, he drops into the alley, just in front of where the woman lay on the ground, hacking desperately to refill her lungs.

“Hey,” a voice shouts from across the alley. Soldier: 76 turns to look at the criminals. “Get out of the way! We’ve got business with the bitch.”

“Who is this clown?” a second voice asks. His tone is quite obviously uneasy.

The man turns his attention to the three criminals standing meters away. They’re tall and hefty, but it isn’t something he knows he can handle with her by his side. He smiles slightly from behind his mask and responds, “I’m the clown who’s gonna bring you punks to justice.”

* * *

She sleeps soundly in his arms. Jack can’t rest; he’s in disbelief that (Y/N) is alive and willingly reunited with him again. Mostly, he’s afraid that if he lets sleep come, she will prove to be just another dream and disappear in the morning.

The sunlight that reaches through the windows and touches her delicate skin serve as proof that his mind is not playing tricks on him. He breathes into her neck and moves to leave gentile kisses along her jawline. "I'm not letting you out of my sights again…" he promises as the grip around her tightens ever so slightly. "I just can’t let you get hurt again, damn it. I’m in love with you.”

She stirs in her sleep but does not wake. Though a small part of him feels relieved to finally dictate his affection, he knows that it is not the same as telling her how he feels. Jack accepts that it will take time for her to readjust to being together again before throwing romance into the mix, and so it may be a very long time before he will be able to offer a proper confession. In the end, it doesn't matter; his strength has returned to fight by his side and together they are unstoppable.

* * *

Jack wakes up with a start when the entire room shakes slightly. He takes a moment to bear his surroundings; he’s in a small cabin with benches on either side. On his right is a sliding door and to the left is a large window. As he watches the scenery outside blur past, he remembers the events before his slumber. They had boarded a train and are on their way to Overwatch's base in Gibraltar.

“It’s about time you woke up,” a voice beside him grumbles. “You were out for a while.”

He turns to look at the woman to his right. (Y/N) is staring back at him through oversized sunglasses. Her hair is tucked beneath a ridiculously large hat and her neck is protected by an eccentric fur boa. She looks outlandish, like a pompous old lady. It’s the perfect disguise; no one will look her in the face and be able to tell that she’s a specially trained combatant.

He stretches his limbs and yawns before responding. “Are we almost there?” he asks in a half-weary tone.

“We’ll reach our station in an hour,” she responds as she stretches her own legs, made uncomfortable by the cramped cabin. “After that, it’s a two hour walk to the rock.”

Jack grunts and itches at the scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. He remembers that he’s also in disguise; he’s abandoned his mask in favor of a scarf, sunglasses, and a baseball cap. Though he only wears it while traveling to avoid any unwarranted attention, he can't help but feel completely defenseless. He turns his attention to the woman sitting next to him. “How are we gonna manage to sneak me in?”

She shrugs. “I’ll tell them the truth. That you’ve been my partner for five years and that you're great candidate for Overwatch's recall.” She smirks and turns her head to the man. “But maybe we should make sure that this isn’t a trap first, right? Stick to the plan.”

He grumbles and turns back to stare through the window. The landscape races by as the sun reaches the hills. It's almost sundown, so they'll have to walk in the dark. "Should we rest for the night?" he asks to break the growing, comfortable silence.

She snorts and pokes his side, making him turn back to gaze upon her. "As if you didn't get enough rest already." She smiles wide first, then her expression becomes serious. "The longer we take, the greater the risk for other agents. If it is a trap, we should spring it before anyone else is caught."

Jack agrees with his words, but he is still uneasy. His gaze meets the floor and stares at his polished boots, deep in thought He's been living under an alias for so long, he's not sure how he should interact with his old comrades, if they were indeed waiting there for him. “What if someone recognizes me?”

“We’ll worry about that when the time comes.” (Y/N) gently takes his head and guides him to look back at her. “For now, just relax. We’re going to get through this and we’re going to make a change in the world. Don’t forget; I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He smiles genuinely. He knows she can’t see it, but he’s glad that she returns it with her own gentile glance. She pecks on his cheekbone and wraps her hands around his arms. Jack nuzzles against her forehead, and they both lay in embrace in the cabin as the sun sets and the day turns to night.

Jack Morrison was believed to be dead for the longest time; but now, in this moment, he was truly alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END. (For real this time!)
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading!


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